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NVMEN

INTERNATIONAL REVIEW FOR THE
HISTORY OF RELIGIONS

ISSUED BY THE

INTERNATIONAL ASSOCIATION FOR THE
HISTORY OF RELIGIONS

VOLUME XVIII

LEIDEN
E. J. BRILL
1971

CONTENTS

Ugo Bianchi, La Redemption dans les livres d’Adam ... i

C. J. Bleeker, Comparing the religio-historical and the theo¬
logical method. 9

Allan J. Behm, The Eschatology of the Jatakas .... 30

Piotr O. Szolc, Religionswissenschaft in Polen ... 45

H.-J. Klimkeit, Gustav Mensching Septuagenarius ... 81

Michael Pye, Syncretism and Ambiguity.83

K. A. H. Hidding, Der Hochgott und der mikrokosmische
Mensch.94

George J. Szemler, Religio, Priesthoods and Magistracies in
the Roman Republic.103

K. D. Schunck, Zentralheiligtum, Grenzheiligtum und ‘Hohen-

heiligtum , in Israel.132

Karl W. Luckert, The geographization of death in Melanesia 141

Geo Widengren, La methode comparative: entre philologie et
phenomenologie.161

R. Panikkar, Indology as a cross-cultural catalyst . . . 173

J. Bruce Long, Siva and Dionysos — visions of terror and bliss 180

Evan M. Zuesse, On the nature of the demonic: African

witchery.210

In memoriam.240

NVMEN

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LA REDEMPTION DANS LES LIVRES D’ADAM *)

PAR

UGO BIANCHI

Rome

Nous avons eu ailleurs *) l’occasion de souligner l’importance de
l’apocryphe juif sur la vie d’Adam et d’Eve (tel qu’il peut etre retabli
sur la base de FApocalypse de Moise’ et de la Vita Adae et Evae) 2 )
pour la soteriologie et ranthropologie du judaisme (et indirectement du
christianisme et du gnosticisme): il s’agit de themes comme ceux du
rapport de l’homme avec les anges; de la ‘connaissance’ d’Adam, du role
de la femme, de la nature du mal. Nous nous proposons ici de faire
ressortir certains aspects des memes textes pour le theme de Fhistoire
du salut’ en tant que contexte ou sont inseres le premier peche, la mort,
Thistoire, la resurrection. De ce point de vue, nous nous proposons
aussi une comparaison de l’apocryphe juif et de la thematique pauli-
nienne de I Cor. 15: on aura ainsi l’occasion de remarquer quelques
notions partiellement comparables, d’autant plus comprehensibles si
Ton tient compte du fait que I Cor. 15 polemise contre un certain
‘spiritualisme’ gnostisant des Corinthiens, qui menace d’evacuer les
elements concrets de la soteriologie et de l’eschatologie chretiennes, fon-
dees sur ce que Tapotre a regu et transmis: otl XpuiTo^ a7C£0av£v. . .
xcd otl sTa<p7], xal otl syTjyepTaL ty \ v]p£pa ty] TpLTY) . . . (v.3 s.). Ces
evenements du Christ sont consideres en relation a une ‘fin’, qui coin-
cidera avec la destruction de la mort, la victoire du Fils et Tetablissement
du Royaume (w. 24-28).

On admet en general que le livre d’Adam et d’Eve est dans son fonds

*) Ce texte, lu au colloque de Jerusalem, n’a pas ete insere, pour des raisons
materielles, dans les actes. Nous sommes heureux de pouvoir le publier dans la
revue de la I.A.H.R.

C. J. B.

1) Kairos, N. F., XI (1969), Heft 1.

2) R. H. Charles, The Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament ,
vol. II, pp. 123-154.

Numen XVIII

Ugo Bianchi

un texte judai'que. II n’est devenu chretien qu’apres coup. Plus tard
le livre juif d’Adam et d’Eve a donne le pas a toute une litterature
d’Adam 2 bis , dont nous rappellerons brievement les pieces principales
seulement pour les distinguer clairement du livre qui nous interesse.
Cette litterature est formee, on le sait, par la Caverne des tresors syria-
que, le Conflit d’Adam ethiopien, deux livres chretiens de contenu non-
gnostique; puis par les fragments du Testamentum Adae 3 ) qui ont
semble a Renan teints d’un certain gnosticisme, par les livres armeniens
d’Adam, qui aux dires de Preuschen le sont aussi, et finalement le livre
mandeen d’Adam, qui est un classique de la litterature gnostique, et
1 ’Apocalypse d’Adam trouvee parmi les textes gnostiques de Nag
Hammadi.

Pour en revenir a notre livre judai'que d’Adam, il faut noter que le
texte donne par 1 ’Apocalypse de Moi'se est apparu a plusieurs savants
plus originel que celui de la Vita Adae latine, et, a plus forte raison,
que le correspondant en paleo-slave 4 ) utilise par Charles dans le
meme contexte. Mais il faut ajouter que meme des parties de la Vita
Adae qui n’ont pas de correspondance dans le texte grec ont toute
chance d’appartenir a un fonds juif authentique, et done doivent etre
considerees pour notre recherche comme ayant une importance bien
differente de celle de la litterature posterieure encratite ou gnostique sur
Adam. En d’autres termes, nous allons jeter un coup d’oeil sur un
complexe de traditions juives sur Adam qui ont pu etre connues par
Paul. Je prends cette limite pour deux raisons: i) parce que l’etude
des conceptions juives sur Adam peut interesser certains aspects
de la doctrine paulinienne sur la redemption et sur le Christ, 2) parce
que peu d’annees ou de decades apres les lettres aux Romains et aux
Corinthiens ont suffi a compliquer tout le tableau, a cause de l’intro-
duction des speculations encratites ou gnostiques sur les memes themes.

L’etude de cette espece d’adamologie qui ressort du livre d’Adam et
d’Eve est d’autant plus importante pour l’histoire religieuse, qu’elle
contient un aspect qui est tout a fait absent dans les speculations philo-

2bis) [Pour la question des livres d’Adam, vr. maintenant le volume de Denis
sur les apocryphes grecs d’A.T., Leiden 1970].

3) Kmosko, Patrologia Syriac a I, t. 2, c. 1340 ss.

4) Celui-ci contient des elements bien plus tardifs, bogomiles: cfr. XXXIII-
XXXIV (Charles, op. cit., p. 135) sur le theme de la dispute sur la possession de
la terre et du piege verbal tendu a Satan.

La Redemption dans les livres d’Adam

niennes 5 ) ou dans les conceptions iraniennes sur l’Homme primordial.
Cet aspect propre a Fadamologie de notre texte est celui de la vicis¬
situde de Thistoire du salut. En effet, l’Homme celeste philonien ne
joue aucun role dans la vicissitude du salut et dans Feschatologie. Au
contraire, FAdam de notre apocryphe et de toute la litterature sur
Adam est profondement insere dans une vicissitude, dans une histoire
du salut qui implique, on va le voir, toute une tension et toute une
dialectique au sein de la triade Dieu, puissances, homme, et au dedans
des puissances et de l’homme consideres en eux-memes. Des lors,
Timportance de l’etude de ces textes pour ceux qui s’interessent a la
soteriologie et a la christologie du christianisme naissant et du gnosti-
cisme, sans vouloir pour autant transformer le livre juif d’Adam dans
un texte chretien ou dans un texte gnostique avant la lettre, et sans
vouloir bien entendu reduire la christologie chretienne ou Fanthropolo-
gie gnostique a une simple variation d’un theme deja juif comme celui
de rAdam de notre apocryphe. II est vrai d’ailleurs que cet Adam du
livre juif a des aspects, apparemment contradictoires (il est pecheur,
mais Timage de Dieu qui est en lui lui confere une majeste ineliminable),
qui ne manquent pas dans certaines speculations chretiennes post-
neotestamentaires 6 ): une ambivalence d’ailleurs qui se continue aussi
■— mutatis mutandis — dans la litterature gnostique sur Adam, prive
par le demiurge de sa gloire mais conservant des traces essentielles de
sa nature pneumatique.

Pour en revenir encore une fois a notre apocryphe, nous voulons y
souligner: i) la tendance a envisager une histoire de Fhumanite qui est
en meme temps une histoire du salut: il arrive p.ex. que le peche d’Adam
et d’Eve n’y soit pas raconte ex professo des le debut, mais qu’il ne
revienne que dans la suite, raconte par les protagonistes et surtou:
dans l’optique d’evenements futurs, qui sont evenements d’expiation
et de salut; 2) le fait que dans cette histoire du salut Adam joue un
role tout a fait central, non seulement par ses actions et ses revela-

5) Surtout dans le de opificio mundi.

6) Ps.-Clem., Horn. Ill, 17,1 (Fhomme sorti des mains du createur a possede
Tesprit de la prescience divine; cet homme est decrit en contraste a Fhomme
engendre par la semence impure) ; cfr. aussi III, 20, 2: celui-la possede FEsprit,
qui, depuis le commencement du monde, changeant son nom et sa figure, traverse
le temps du monde, jusqu’au temps ou, avec l’onction de la misericorde de Dieu,
il arrivera a son temps et a sa paix. Cfr. aussi XI, 19, 1, pour le concept d’une
histoire mondiale du salut, en relation au ‘Vrai Propheteh

Ugo Bianchi

tions posterieures a son peche, mais aussi par sa mort, sa sepulture,
sa resurrection future.

Nous n’avons ici qu’a rappeler brievement le contenu du livre. Ce-
lui-ci debute par la sortie d’Adam et d’Eve du Paradis. Les deux proto-
plastes sont immediatement atteints par le probleme de la nourriture.
Prives de la nourriture des anges, ils ont difficulty devant la nourri¬
ture des animaux: une opposition de termes qui envisage un aspect
assez celeste de TAdam du Paradis (celui-ci etant oppose a la ‘terre’):
un aspect qui rappelle la future thematique encratite, et qui d’ailleurs
ne se recoupe pas avec la thematique philonienne de l’homme a l’etat
celeste. Suit la scene de la penitence d’Adam et d’Eve, qui se puri-
fient respectivement dans les eaux du Jourdain et du Tigris (que
Ton remarque la distinction et la situation differente des deux fleuves
par rapport a la Terre sainte) et pour une duree qui est plus longue
pour Adam, en relation non pas a la gravite majeure de sa faute, mais
a sa plus grande capacite de souffranee; et la faiblesse d’Eve est
ulterieurement soulignee par le fait qu’elle, trompee par Satan, inter-
rompt sa penitence avant le terme, en encourant le reproche d’Adam.
Nous ne sommes evidemment pas a l’anti-feminisme (autrement dit:
a la devaluation ontologique de la femme et du feminin) propre — sur
la base de raisons differentes — aux encratites 7 ), ou aux pseudo¬
clementines 8 ), ou aux gnostiques de l’Evangile de Thomas 9 ), ou aux

7) Jules Cassien, ap. Clem. Al., Strom. Ill, 93, 3, Stahlin p. 239: l’ame descend
dans ce monde de naissance et de mort smOupia 07 ]Xi>v 0 eiaa. (C’est la radicalisation
d’une position platonicienne du Timee, 42 A, ou la premiere incarnation de Tame
est masculine, la deuxieme, moins noble, feminine) ; cfr. aussi Philon, de gig. I, 4:
‘un homme injuste n’engendre pas, dans Tame, des males’.

8) Le mal surgit avec l’inversion de l’ordre de priorite entre les deux elements
des syzygies, entre le masculin et le feminin. Horn. II, 15, 2 s. : & xod tolc, tg>v
au^uytoiv evYjXXa^ev sixova^, puxpa tol Kpcora 7rapa0£p.evo^ aurqi, pteyaXa Ss ra
Seurepa, olov xoap.ov, odcova. aXX’o p.ev 7rapwv xoaptot; 7rp6axaipoc6 eaofxevog
od^ioq. 7rpa)T7] ayvoia, Seurspa yvcoaii; . . . £7rsl yap 6 7rapcbv xoaptoi; 0 Y)Xuc; ecmv,
oic, (jly]ty]p tsxvcov TtXTCov ^»u)(a^, 6 <S’> saofxsvoc; atwv appiQV eartv, a>? TuaTY]p

auxou vsxva.

9) Log. 114. ‘Simon Pierre leur dit: Que Marie sorte du milieu de nous, car
les femmes ne sont pas dignes de la Vie. Jesus dit: Voici que je la guiderai afin
de la faire male, pour qu’elle devienne, elle aussi, un esprit vivant semblable a
vous, les males. Car toute femme qui se fera male entrera dans le Royaume des
cieux’. ( L’Evangelie de Thomas, A. Guillaumont, H.-Ch. Puech, G. Quispel et al.,
Paris 1959)- Cfr. aussi l’Ev. des Egyptiens cite par Clement d’Al.: „Je suis venu
pour detruire les oeuvres de la femme... Quand les deux seront un, le male et la
femelle, il n’y aura plus ni homme ni femme”.

La Redemption dans les livres d’Adam

Ophites 10 ); ni notre apocryphe n’implique l’exaltation mystique cor-
respondante du masculin. Mais son insistence sur la thematique sus-
indiquee est symptomatique. En effet, la deuxieme faute dans laquelle
Eve, et elle seule, est tombee, declenche chez celle-ci une serie de de¬
pressions melancholiques: elle s’accuse de toute la faute de la premiere
chute, souligne son incapacity fonciere et s’eloigne d’Adam pour aller
attendre la mort loin, a l’Occident 11 ). Mais une vie nouvelle, celle de
son premier enfant Cain, se fait entendre dans son sein. Loin d’Adam
elle est dans les peines les plus effrayantes et s’adresse a Dieu. Mais
ses prieres n’ont pas d’effet: il est revele que son salut — son accouche¬
ment — ne se verifiera que par Intercession d’Adam (propter Adam),
ce qui en realite arrive 12 ). De nouvelles revelations anticipent sur
l’histoire du salut, et de nouveaux evenements (meurtre d’Abel,

10) Cfr. la doctrine des Naassenes (Hippol., El. V, 7,15, p. 82 Wendland) :
Attis est recouvre arco xwv /oix<J>v T7)<; xticteox; xoctcoOev p£pa>v et revient ini tyjv
alamav #va) . . .oualav otcou . . . oux Icttlv outs GyjXu outs dtpaev aXXa xaivyj XTiaiq,
xcavoc, av0pco7ro<;, 6 scttlv apar£v 607 ]Xu<; (utilisation et alteration de Eph. 2, 15). Plus
haut le meme texte ( El. V, 7 > 13) avait dit que /) xwv u7r£pxoapia)v . . . xal
alama)v avco paxapla cpuaic; (la Mere des dieux) tt;v appsvLxrjv Suvaptv tpvxVS
avaxaXciTai 7rpo<; auzrjv. Cfr. aussi le Baruch de Justin le gnostique (ibid. X,
15, p. 276s. Wendland).

11) Vita Adae et Evae XVIII, 1 (W. Meyer, Vita Adae et Evae, Miinchen
1879, dans les Abhandl. bayer. Akad. I.Cl.XIV Bd. Ill Abt.) : „Et dixit Eva
ad Adam: vive tu ... Tibi concessa est vita, quoniam tu nec primam nec
secundam praevaricationem fecisti, sed ego praevaricata et seducta sum, quia non
custodivi mandatum Dei”. Cfr. XXXV, 2 s.: ,,Et cum vidisset eum Eva flentem
coepit et ipsa flere dicens: domine Deus meus, in me transfer dolorem eius, quo¬
niam ego peccavi. Et dixit Eva ad Adam: domine mi, da mihi partem dolorum
tuorum, quoniam a me culpa haec tibi accessit”. Cfr. Apoc. Mosis XXXII, 1-2;
XIV, 2: reproche d’Adam a Eve (et cfr. VII, 1). Mais Apoc. Mos. XXVII, 2
Adam s’accuse comme le seul coupable: oti syw povog ^paprov. Mais il a ete pre¬
cede par le reproche de Dieu: „tu as desobea a mon commandement et tu as ecoute
ta femme” (XXIV, 1). Apoc. Mos. XXXIX, 1 Dieu reproche le peche a Adam,
avec la formule ‘Qu’as tu fait?’ qui est celle du reproche d’Adam a Eve dans XIV,
2 cite. En resumant, il faut dire que le fait de souligner la faiblesse d’Eve, et le
fait qu’Eve fut directement trompee par le Serpent, n’implique nullement qu’Adam
soit innocent; mais la faiblesse de la femme en reste egalement etablie. Pour le

N.T., cfr. II Cor. 11, 3: (po(3oupai Ss piq tzioc, , ax; 6 ocpic; s^STrdrnQasv Euav Iv t fj
7tavoupyla auvou . . . et I Tim. 2, 14: xal ’ASap oux Y)7raTYj07), rj 8 k yuvy; k^e-
TuaT7}0£iaa Iv 7rapaPacr£t, ylyov£v.

12) Vita Adae XXI f 2: “Beata es, Eva, propter Adam. Quoniam preces eius
magnae sunt et orationes...”. Que Ton compare I Tim. 11-15, partic. 13-15 : ’ASap yap
izp&zoc, £7rXaa0Y], slxa Eua. xal ’A$ap oux f] 7 raTYj 07 ) (cfr. la n. 11), yj 8 k yuvq
£5a7raTYj0£iaa Iv 7rapajiao£t ylyov£v* (jcoOrjaezou 8k 81 a Tsxvoyovlac;, lav pslvcoatv Iv
tuIotsi xal aya7T7; xal aytaapto p£Ta ocu9poauv7]c; (cfr. I Cor. 14, 33-35; I Cor. ii f
3 - 8 - 9 )-

Ugo Bianchi

naissance de Seth) compliquent le cadre. Mais le theme central n’en
reste pas moins le suivant: Adam devra mourir, sa redemption s’ob-
tiendra par de la sa mort, voire par de la toute l’histoire humaine 13 ) :
on dirait meme, par sa mort et a travers toute l’histoire 14 ).

Une insistance toute speciale est posee en effet sur la mort d’Adam.
Adam n’est pas le premier mort, etant donne qu’Abel est bientot tue
par son frere: mais Adam sera le premier enseveli 15 ), au cours de
funerailles qui ont tout Taspect d’une consecration a une vie future ou
d’un ‘sacrement’ de la resurrection 16 ), au benefice de toute l’humanite,
qui est sa semence 17 ). Ces funerailles sont celebrees par les anges, sur
Tinstruction de Dieu, et ils font usage pour elles de toiles de lin (trois,
de byssus, selon la Vita) et d’une ,,huile de fragrance”, qu’ils
auront procurees, avec d’autres aromates, dans le Pardis du troisieme
del 18 ); et les corps d’Adam et d’Abel, et puis d’Eve, a ce qu’il
semble, sont ensevelis dans le Paradis sur terre 19 ). Tout cela, on
dirait, fait d’Adam une espece d’cStarap^ tcdv xsxoifr/jfjiivcov (pour pren¬
dre l’expression que I Cor . 15, 21 applique au Christ) et de 7rpo)TOToxoc;
Tdv vsxpcov {Col. 1, 18, egalement le Christ): avec sa resurrection
(cfr. supra ,, n. 17) arriveront la resurrection des hommes 20 ) et l’age
a venir 21 ).

13) Vita Adae, XXIX, c: Et post haec habitabit Deiis cum hominibus in terris
videndus (texte ajoute).

14) Apoc. Mosis XXVIII, 4: aXX’ e^epyopivo u cron ex too TiapaSeiaou, eav
cpuXa^T] eauTov ouzo tzolvtoc, xaxou cbc, pouXopievog aTroOaveiv, avaaTaaeox; tcolXiv
yevogivTiq avaaT/jaco ae xal tote SoOrjaeTaE. aoi ex tou ^oXou ty)<; £corj<; xal addcvaroc;
ear] elq tov aiwva. (Dans les fragments, plus tardifs, du Testamentum Adae
chretien et gnostisant [op. cit. ci-dessus, n.3, c.1341 et 1349] Adam est assez rap-
proche, dans sa glorification finale, de la glorification du Christ.) Voir aussi, en
parallele au texte de l’Apoc. Mos. cite. Vita Adae XLVII, 1-3: tunc vidit Seth
manum domini extensam tenentem Adam; et tradidit Michahel dicens: Sit in
custodia tua usque in diem dispensationis in suppliciis ad annos novissimos, quando
convertam luctum eius in gaudium. Tunc sedebit in throno eius, qui eum supplan-
tavit (ou: seduxit). Cfr. aussi Apoc. Mos. XLI, 1-3.

15) Vita Adae XLVIII, 4-7, partic. 5: et processerunt omnes virtutes angelorum
ante Adam, et sanctificata est dormitatio mortuorum... Cfr. Apoc. Mos. XL, 1-7.

16) Vita Adae XLVIII, 5, cite a la n. 15.

17) Apoc. Mos. XLI, 3.

18) Apoc. Mos. XL, 1 ss., cfr. Vita Adae XLVIII, 4 ss.

19) Vita Adae XLVIII, 6: et sepelierunt Adam et Abel Michahel et Urihel
angeli in partibus Paradisi; Apoc. Mos. XXXVII, 5; mais XL, 7 et XLI, 1 Adam
est enseveli dans la terre.

20) Apoc. Mos. XLI, 3; Vita Adae LI, 2; Apoc. Mos. XLIII, 2.

21) Cfr. la deuxieme cit. de la n. 20.

La Redemption dans les livres d’Adam

Voila done des particularites qui peuvent etre importantes pour la
theologie paulinienne de la mort et de la resurrection du Christ, en
perspective heilsgeschichtlich, et pour la fonction d’Adam dans cette
meme perspective. On ne saurait evidemment ignorer les differences,
voire les oppositions. Paul renverse la situation, en introduisant le
'dernier Adam’ (I Cor. 15, 45), le 'deuxieme homme provenant du
del’ (I Cor. 15, 47), qui existe avant le premier, mais qui se manifeste
au centre de l’histoire et qui est en meme temps le 7cpcototoxo(; tcov
vsxpoov et le 7rpcoTOTOxo^ 7ua<n)£ xTtcrsco^ (Col. 1, 15). II ne sera plus
question pour Paul des privileges conserves par Adam meme apres le
peche; bien au contraire (Rom. 18 s.). De plus, le premier Adam sera
et /0!.x6<;, le Christ sera 7rvei>fiaTix6£ et s7coupcmo<; (I Cor. 15,
45-49). Seul le Christ enseveli et ressuscite sera le sacrement du salut
deja manifeste et de l’accomplissement des temps, qui n’abolira pour-
tant pas l’histoire, ou se manifestera Inspiration de toute creature souf-
frant les peines de l’enfantement (Rom. 8, 22-23). Pour ce qui est
d’Adam, Paul en aura fait eclater l’ambivalence et la dialectique de
pecheur et d’image de Dieu. Adam sera le pecheur; la veritable image
sera le Fils (I Cor. 15, 49, cfr. 24.28; Col 1,15), la tension et la dialec¬
tique qui etaient en Adam seront reglees par l’opposition des deux
Adam: zizziSi) yap 8i’av0poo7rou 0 avaTO<;, xal 8i’av0pco7roo avaerraem;
vsxpcov. co(7TU£p yap sv tco ’A8ap tzowtzc, a7ro0VY)C7xou(nv, ouxco<; xal
sv tw Xpump 7iavT£^ ^(oo7roi7]0Y]crovTai (I Cor. 14, 21 s., cfr. 45:
sysvsxo 6 np&Toc, avOpamo^ ’ASap ziq i^waav • o ea^ocaTO<; ’A8ap

zlc, 7ivsopa ^o)07tolouv). Peut-etre, la proclamation mysterieuse du 'Fils
de l’homme’ lui en aura fraye le chemin 22 ).

Mais l’argument paulinien de I Cor. 15,12 ss. n’en supposera pas
moins le fondement general de l’idee de resurrection: el 8s avacrracrii;
vexpoov oux 2<mv, ou8s Xpiaxo^ syyjyspTai (v. 13, cfr. 16). II est vrai
que ceci ne diminue en rien la specif icite et la primaute (dans l’ordre
causal et exemplaire) de la resurrection du Christ, d’autant plus que
1’argument des vv. 13 et 16 est polemique, per absurdum, comme il
sera adhominem plus bas, quandil s’agira de ceux qui se font baptiser
pour les morts (v. 29), la resurrection du Christ etant un primum
inconditionne, dans la conception et l’experience religieuse de Paul.

De plus, l’idee de la resurrection est liee au concept de la vicissitude

22) Cfr. C. Colpe, in Kittel, Th.W.z.N.T., S.V. 6 MLOQ TOU aV0pCO7TOU p. 408.

Bianchi, La Redemption dans les livres d’Adam

et de la fin de Fhistoire: la resurrection du Christ, comme premices,
et celle des croyants en lui marquera la fin de Fhistoire (v. 24); la
derniere qui sera detruite sera la mort (v. 26). Cela implique que le
Christ regnera quand tous ses ennemis seront a ses pieds et toute prin-
cipaute, puissance et vertu sera evacuee (v. 24). Or, dans le livre
d’Adam, celui-ci siegera sur le throne de Satan, qui Fa trompe 23 ); et
Paul, de sa part, cite dans le contexte que nous venons d’evoquer (vv.
et 27) les ps. 109,1 (a^pc ou 09 j roue, s^Opou c, u7ro tou<; tzoSolq auvou)
et 8,7 (7uavTa yap u7i£Ta^£v u7ro t ouc, 7roSa^ auTou). Ce verset du ps. 8
appartient a une exaltation de Fhomme, exaltation que I Cor. 15,27,
Eph. 1,22 et Hebr. 2,8 utilisent en fonction du Christ; et dans ces
textes Futilisation est en fonction eschatologique et heilsgeschichtlich:
OTav u7TOTay7] auT<p Ta 7ravTa, tots ... (I Cor. 15, 28). —vuv Ss
ou7rco 6 pc 5 [xsv ocutg) Ta 7ravTa u7TOT£Tay[jL£va [Hebr. 2,8; dans Eph. 1,22
la vision contemple 'ce siecle et le futur’: v. 21).

Quant aux puissances evacuees de I Cor. 15,24 et (encore moins)
aux anges dont il est question dans ce texte de Hebr., ils ne seront
pas a identifier au Satan de la Vita Adae 24 ), mais il n’en est pas moins
vrai que le &ca(3oAo<; est mentionne Hebr. 2,14 dans un texte ou le
sauveur envoye par celui „par lequel et a travers lequel tout a ete cree
et qui a porte plusieurs fils a la gloire” (v. 10) appelle les hommes ses
freres (vv. 12 s. [citations du V.T.]), se fait semblable aux freres
(v. 17) et detruit par la mort le maitre de la mort, le diable (v. 14):
ou yap 8y)7rou ayysAcov l7rcAa(jij3av£Tac, aAAa a7rsp{xaTOc; ’APpaajx
STrcXapPavsTac (v. 16).

23) Vita Adae XLVII, 3, cfr. XVII; Apoc. Mos. XXXIX, 2-3.

24) XII-XVII.

COMPARING THE RELIGIO-HISTORICAL
AND THE THEOLOGICAL METHOD *)

C. J. BLEEKER

Amsterdam

This theme gives rise to a series of questions. For the first it is
dubious whether theoretical considerations on methodology are very
fruitful and attractive. Not improperly it has been said that discussing
methodology is like an endlessly sharpening of a knife whilst one never
gets something to eat. Such a theoretical exposition mostly is a bloodless
argument which some people perhaps read with pleasure, but which is
not to the taste of historians of religions. They are fascinated by the
religious phenomena to such a degree, that they do not allow themselves
time to reflect on the method of their study. Secondly the question
arises whether one can deal with the method of history of religions and
of theology without taking the object of the two disciplines into account.
The method of a discipline generally results from its object. It is
wellknown that each science approaches its material in its own way.
Therefore one cannot compare the method of the two disciplines without
taking their principles into considerations. Thirdly it is evident that
there exists difference of opinion on the character and the object both
of history of religions and of theology. How can the methods of the
two disciplines be compared when there is no communis opinio on
their principles? Fourthly it can be questioned whether it is useful
to deal with the question in the abstract. It is clear that everyone who
writes about the subject, starts from certain tacit presuppositions.
Some decades ago objectivity was proclaimed as the sole principle of
science. Nowadays scholars have come to the insight that how impartial

i) This article has originally been written for a volume on “History of Religions
and Theology: Essays in Methodology” which for technical reasons could not be
published. Assuming that the subscribers to Numen are interested in the subject,
I decided to publish the treatise in the journal of the IAHR, C.J.B.

C. /. Bleeker

they may try to be, everyone looks at the subject of his study from his
own angle, even the students of natural science who were formerly sup¬
posed to be absolutely unbiased. This holds certainly also true for the
student of history of religions. Though he is obliged to present an
unprejudiced picture of the religion which he is studying, he must be
conscious of the fact that he involuntarily is influenced by the attitude
which he takes to the subject of his inquiry. The implications of this
situation are twofold: a) the historian of religions should acknowledge
that his method is coloured by his personal outlook on the material
which he handles, b) he should realize that he is moulded by a certain
religio-historical tradition, which means that he is the follower of a
certain national school. In regard to the second point it is mostly for¬
gotten that the study of history of religions is strongly influenced by
the cultural, spiritual and scholarly atmosphere in which the study
takes place. One can make a further step. The character of history of
religions is generally determined by the function which the discipline
fulfils in the system of academical instruction of the country in question.
Too little attention is paid to this background. Yet the scholarly milieu
can be decisive for the manner in which the study of history of religions
is conceived of. These spiritual surroundings often explain why a
certain method is chosen. The present author therefore doubts whether
it is of any use to treat the question of the relation of the religio-
historical method to the theological method in the abstract. At any rate
it will surely clarify his own standpoint when he starts by sketching
the Dutch background of his study. After having described the respective
problematics in Holland he can take a further step by voicing some
views that have a more general and international significance.

In the Netherlands history of religions is pursued by scholars of
different faculties and of different confessions. Historians of religions
are to be found not only among the theologians, but also amidst the
philologists, the historians, the sociologists, the psychologists, the
ethnologists etc. They may be Protestants of different denominations,
or Roman Catholics, or persons who belong to no church and do not
profess any creed. This fact deserves special notice. The majority of
these scholars study history of religions as an interesting subject
alongside their actual professional study. They hardly come in touch
with theology. They are not forced to confront their method with that
of theology. They study religio-historical problems in a matter of fact

Comparing the religio-historical and the theological method

way, without caring about the presuppositions of their work. There is
no reason why they should puzzle their head about the problematics
which is tackled in this article. Now and then their scholarly accomplish¬
ments are impressive and surprising. From this fact the conclusion
can be drawn that history of religions in principle is an empirical
science. It does not pronounce any value judgments, but tries to describe
the course of events in an unbiased way, as the students of every seg¬
ment of historical studies are bound to do. A tendentious description of
history is no good. The historian of religions would disqualify himself
by showing his predilection or by pronouncing his assent or dissent.
Deterrent examples are those treatises on the non-Christian religions
which qualify these types of belief as the work of the devil or as the
results of human sin.

There are in the Netherlands historians of religions who find them¬
selves in another position. That are those persons who are charged
to teach history of religions at the university. Remarkable enough
these professorships are solely located in the faculties of theology, both
Protestant and Roman Catholic. In principle it would be possible to
create a professorship for the history of religions in the faculty of arts.
For, history of religions is an autonomous science and is not obliged
to reckon with theology or church. This step has never been taken.

There is a historical reason why history of religions is only taught
in the faculty of theology. In former times the Dutch Reformed Church
was the privileged national church. In the faculty of theology the dog¬
matics of that church was officially taught. In the nineteenth century
the separation of Church and State came about. The faculty of theology
became independent and accepted the principle of scholarly objectivity.
The result was that by the academic statute of 1876 dogmatics were
eliminated from the educational programme of the faculty of theology
as a body of professors, nominated by the minister of education. This
discipline was handed over to professors, appointed by the churches,
who had to train the future ministers. They possessed an advisory
capacity at the faculty of theology. To approach the situation from
another side, one could say that the majority of the Dutch churches
require that the future clergyman shall take his candidate’s degree at
the university. The churches themselves take care of the training for
the ministry. Thus a so called “duplex ordo” was created which can be
considered both as an advantage and as a drawback. In this context it

C. J. Bleeker

is important to mention the results of this regulation. In the first place
it is interesting to know that in 1876 some law makers were inclined
to take the utmost consequence of the idea that the study of religion
should be impartially scientific. They proposed to change the name of
the faculty of theology into that of the faculty of science of religion.
Fortunately this step was prevented by a certain connectedness with
theology and church which still prevailed among those persons who had
to take the decision in this matter. Secondly it is essential to note that
instead of dogmatics philosophy of religion and later on history of reli¬
gions were inserted into the system of academical instruction. In this
manner history of religions got its seat in the faculty of theology.
Being an independent discipline with a method of its own, history of
religions was from the beginning involved in discussions with theolo¬
gians, especially with those professors who teach dogmatics, about
questions of the principles of its study. Some orthodox theologians
refused to consider history of religions as a theological discipline.
Dr. A. Kuyper, the founder of the Calvinistic “Vrije Universiteit”
(Free University) treated history of religions very stepmotherly
by relegating it to the appendix of his extensive, threepartite
“Encyclopaedic der Heilige Godgeleerdheid” (Encyclopaedia of the
Holy Theology) (1894). In his opinion history of religions being
the history of pseudo-religion, did belong to the non-theological dis<-
ciplines. Since that time the tide has turned, also at the “Free Univer¬
sity”. Nevertheless those theologians who are influenced by Karl Barth
are still suspicious of history of religions, because they fear that the
absolute truth of the Gospel will be endangered by acknowledging the
significance and the religious value of the non-Christians religions.
Thus an ever recurring discussion between theologians and historians
of religions is the result of the fact that they members of the same
faculty.

Unfortunately clarification in this respect is hampered by the fact
that there is no communis opinio about the meaning of the notion:
theology. Different denominations cherish diverging opinions. Each
theologian may have his pet conception. Nevertheless two interpretations
can easily be distinguished: a broader one and a narrower one. In the
first place theology can be conceived of as the organic complex of
disciplines in which the future minister should be trained so that he can
successfully exercise his office. To these disciplines also history of

Comparing the religio-historical and the theological method

religions belongs and that for obvious reasons. The theologian should
both have knowledge of the “Umwelt” of the Bible so that he better
understands the unique significance of the Gospel, and he should be
somewhat familiar with the non-Christian worldreligions, because in a
world that is rapidly becoming smaller, Christians and non-Christians
daily meet and have intercourse with each other. Thus history of
religions has its legitimate place in the encyclopaedia of theology. One
can take a further step. There is reason to argue that the method of
history of religions actually is applied to other theological disciplines.
Which is this method? It is the principle of scholarly impartiality, of
purely historical reseach. In the study of the Old Testament, of the New
Testament, of church history, of the history of dogma—merely to
mention these historical disciplines—the students apply the same critical
unbiased method as the historians of religions. It is eactly this
scholarly procedure which garanties the standard of theology as an
academical discipline and marks its difference from theology, taught
at ecclesiastical seminaries.

There is a second more strict conception of theology. This discipline
can be understood in the original meaning of the word as the doctrine
on God and on the salvation which He offers, as the scholarly expo¬
sition of the Gospel. The Gospel must be deduced from the Bible and
is formulated by dogmatics. This last discipline cannot be studied in a
disengaged way. It forces the student to take a decision in regard to
the Christian truth. Thus it cannot be avoided that the question arises
whether the religions, studied by history of religions, are founded on
knowledge of God. If the decision might turn out in the negative, the
position of history of religions in the faculty of theology is endangered.
For, theology conceived in the second sense, feels itself related to the
church and takes it as its duty to defend the true Christian doctrine.
Actually there is a continuous tension between these two conceptions of
theology, i.e. the academical-scholarly and the ecclesiastical-professing.
Both have their right to exist. They balance one another. Thus, this is
the place where the problem of the relation of the method of history
of religions to that of theology is born. Here it is no artifical question,
but an issue of current and existential interest.

However, in itself history of religions is a harmless and inoffensive
business, as has already been pointed out. It studies religious facts in
an empirical way, like all historians do, without bothering itself about

C. /. Bleeker

its method. The situation becomes complicated by the fact that phe¬
nomenology of religion has a voice in the matter. In order to clarify
this point it should be realized that the notion: phenomenology of
religion can be used in an double sense. It means both a scholarly method
and an independent science, creating monographs and more or less
extensive handbooks. It is this very method which gives rise to inter¬
esting discussions. This can only be fully understood when one is
familiar with the origin and the principles of the science. In sketching
this state of affairs I permit myself to make partly use of ideas about
the issue which I have formerly formulated. 2 )

The Dutch historian of religions P. D. Chantepie de la Saussaye
was the first who published a treatise on the phenomenology of religion.
It is to be found in his “Lehrbuch der Religionsgeschichte” (Handbook
of the History of Religions) of 1887. The term: phenomenology is
older than this handbook. It is used by Kant, Fries and Hegel in the
sense of a philosophical theory about the process of knowledge. Though
it is not certain whether Chantepie de la Saussaye borrowed the term
from these philosophers it is quite clear what he meant by creating the
new science. He must have felt that the study of religions with logical
necessity leads to phenomenological investigations. The historian of
religions not only studies separate facts, but he also compares elements
of different religions and thereby detects parallels and analogies. This
is the field of study on which the “Allgemeine Religionsgeschichte”
(General History of Religions) and comparative religion focussed their
attention. They have become popular, especially among the scholars who
adhered the “religionsgeschichtliche Schule” (religio-historical School).
Phenomenology of religion took a further step. It started from the
conviction that it is more important to try to understand the unique
quality of religious phenomena than giving too much attention to out¬
ward traits of resemblance. It was struck by the fact that e.g. magic,
sacrifice, and prayer occur in a number of religons, yea all over the
world. Therefore the question arose which the religious significance
of such constitutive elements of religion could be. In this process of
research the facts are severed from their historical context and com¬
bined in an ideological connection. The result is that one gets a deeper
insight into the meaning and the structure of the religious phenomena.

2) “The Phenomenological Method” (C. J. Bleeker, The Sacred Bridge, 1963).

Comparing the religio-historical and the theological method

Since 1887 phenomenology of religion has rapidly developed. Grad¬
ually it evolved into an independent branch of the science of religion.
This latter term requires further explanation. For, the issue at stake
in this article is so complicated, because history of religion can not be
treated as an isolated entity. It forms part of a system of disciplines all
of which are in their own way occupied with the study of religion. They
are the following disciplines: history of religions, sociology of religion,
psychology of religion, phenomenology of religion and in a wider sence
also philosophy of religion. There is a constant interaction between
these sciences. They borrow facts and viewpoints from one another.
They influence each others methods. 3 ) Nobody can study history of
religions successfully without securing the help of sociology of religion
and of psychology of religion. Particularly phenomenology of religion
possesses paramount importance, on account of the fact that this
discipline not only offers the heuristic principles and the scientific
perspective by which the specialist suddenly gets insight into the sense
of the meticulous work with which he is occupied, but it also provides
the method, indispensable for the fruitful study of the history of
religions. It is this method about which the controversy with the theo¬
logians is apt to arise.

In order to understand this working principle one should keep in
mind that several students of phenomenology of religion have been
influenced by the philosophical phenomenology of which E. Husserl
is the chief exponent, or that they at least have borrowed their ideo¬
logical apparatus from that branch of philosophy. The Husserlian
phenomenology is a theory of knowledge, i.e. an investigation, intending
to search for pure consciousness. We can skip any further exposition of
the contents of this type of philosophy as being unessential for the
course of our argument. I should only like to stress that in my opinion
it is important to avoid the philosophical implications of the specific
Husserlian method. My famous compatriot Dr G. van der Leeuw
obviously has gone too far in this respect, as appears from the
“Epilegomena” of his wellknown “Phenomenology of Religion’’. In
this chapter he exposes a conception of the meaning of the notion:
phenomenology, which may be philosophically right, but which in the

3) C. J. Bleeker, “The Relation of the History of Religions to kindred religious
Sciences” (Numen, Vol. I Fasc. 2).

C. J. Bleeker

eyes of many historians of religions has no direct bearing on their study,
yea even might create confusion. Moreover there are scholars, surely not
the least able ones, who never theorize about their method, though they
actually adopt a scholarly attitude which can be called phenomenological.
This means that the reflection on this attitude will lead to the con¬
clusion that it involves certain principles. These principles are generally
denoted by two terms of the Husserlian philosophy. They are the epoche
and the eidetic vision. The first principle means suspension of judgment.
In using the epoche one puts oneself into the position of the listener who
does not judge according preconceived notions. Applied to pheno¬
menology of religion this means that the discipline does not concern
itself with the question of the truth of religion. Phenomenology of
religion must begin by accepting as proper objects of study all phe¬
nomena that are professed to be religious. Subsequently the attempt
may come to distinguish between genuine religion and false religion.
The second principle, that of eidetic vision, can easily be understood.
It has as its aim the search for the eidos, i.e. the essence and the structure
of the religious phenomena. It is evident that this phenomenological
method is the only valid principle for the study of history of religions.
On the other hand it is at this point that lively and interesting discussions
have their origin.

Phenomenology of religion is a young science. It finds its path
fumbling and it stumbles now and then. Nobody can deny that there
is an element of truth in the critical remarks which are sometimes
leveled at the science. For many years I have acknowledged this by
writing: “Actually there is a lack of clarity in the working procedure of
phenomenology of religion ...” In my opinion phemenology of religion
should work out a more precise method and it should sharply delimit
the field of its activity. It should keep at a clear distance from the
philosophical phenomenology so that its character stands out indisput¬
ably”. 4 )

The attacks which are mentioned, come from the quarters of both
philosophers and theologians and are directed against its right to exist,
its aim and its method. It it worthwhile to pay attention to this
criticism because a review thereof can cast new light on the problem at

4) C. J. Bleeker, Grondlijnen eener Phaenomenologie van den Godsdienst, 1943,
p. 21.

Comparing the religio-historical and the theological method

1 7

stake. In the first place the right to exist of phenomenology of religion
is questioned. After my “Inleiding tot een phaenomenologie van de
godsdienst” (Introduction to a phenomenology of religion) had ap¬
peared in 1934 a Dutch reviewer, Dr G. H. van Senden, wrote: “Finally
we feel forced to pronounce as our opinion that also this book did not
manage to convince us that phenomenology of religion bears the
character of a separate part of the science of religion, having its own
nature, and to be distinguished from history of religions, psychology
of religion and philosophy of religion. It is possible to collect all kinds
of most interesting facts under the heading: phenomenology of religion,
as this book shows, but thereby its character as an indispensable and
essential part of the science of religion is not sufficiently proved”. He
adds: “A in my opinion hybridic science as the phenomenology of
religion brings about more evil than good by continuously pronouncing
judgments, not justified as to their philosophical meaning and causing
anything but clarification by their edifying nature and their emotional
association”. 5 ) As a consequence of his opinion the reviewer proposed
that this science be divided in such a way that one part of its pretended
task be allotted to history of religion and the other part to philosophy
of religion. The reviewer obviously is the victim of a misconception.
The origin of phenomenology of religion clearly proves that it logically
developped from the history of religions and that it therefore is an
autonomous discipline having its solid right to exist.

Furthermore attention should be paid to the critical remarks which
Dr van Senden makes on the phenonomenological method. He accuses
the science for pronouncing judgments which are not philosophically
justified and which by their edifying and emotional quality hamper
the clarification of religion. He thereby testifies to his lack of insight
into the nature of phenomenology of religion. It never pretended to
pronounce any judgment. It even strictly refrains from this act.
Neither does it intend to edify people.

In this connection the judgment of Dr Th. L. Haitjema, now emeritus
professor of dogmatics in the University of Groningen, on the work
of his colleague Dr G. van der Leeuw merits the attention. It runs
like this: “The phenomenology of religion shows on three points a
lack of clarity: namely 1) lack of clarity in regard to the notion

5) Barchembladen 1943, p. 20/1.

Numen XVIII

C. J. Bleeker

“reality”, 2) lack of clarity as to the concept of truth, 3) lack of clarity
in its relation to theology”. 6 ) This is the typical judgement of a theo¬
logian who makes demands on phenomenology of religion with which
it by its very nature cannot comply. We refrain at the moment from
a detailed refutation of the points of criticism. So much can be said
that phenomenology of religion on principle abstains from a judgement
on the reality and the truth of the religious phenomena and that an
alleged lack of clarity in its relation to theology is not only its fault
but equally of theology.

We are brief on the remarks of Dr Haitjema, because they recur
in the pointed objections which Dr J. A. Oosterbaan, professor of
philosophy and ethics in the university of Amsterdam, has raised,
mainly in regard to the phenomenological method. 7 ) It can be summed
up like this: 1) phenomenology of religion uses the principle of the
epoche and of the eidetic vision in an illicit and unjust way, 2) it takes
a certain position in regard to the question of the truth of religion,
3) it wrongly pretends to be a science of the essence of religion. This
means that Dr Oosterbaan accuses phenomenology of religion of having
transgressed the borders of its domain and of having infringed on the
field of philosophy of religion. He should like to push back phenom¬
enology of religion into what he considers to be its proper and original
sphere of action i.e. the systematic description of the religious phenom¬
ena as part of historical studies without claiming to make statements
about the essence of religion.

The critical remarks of Dr van Senden, Dr Haitjema and Dr Ooster¬
baan are exemplary and even up to date, because they embody the mis¬
understandings which are still prevailing about the relation between the
method of phenomenology or history of religions and that of theology
c.q. of philosophy of religion. Answering these objections I should
like to emphasize the following points:

1) since 1897, when Chantepie de la Saussaye published his first
treatise on the matter, the development of both history of religions and
phenomenology of religions has been such that nowadays nobody can
nor will confine himself to a mere description of religious facts, like
the stock-taking in an antiquated museum. The general trend is for an

6) Vox Theologica, Dec. 1941.

7) Nederlands Theologisch Tijdschrift, Dec. 1958.

Comparing the religio-historical and the theological method

inquiry into the meaning and the structure of the religious phenomena.
Nobody can put the clock of the historical development of a science
back.

2) when phenomenology of religion makes use of the principles of
the epoche and the eidetic vision it should clearly be understood that
they are handled in a figurative sense. They are void of philosophical
or theological implications. They simply express the attitude of im¬
partiality, of attentive listening which is the absolute condition for a
right understanding of the import of the religious phenomena. There
can be no objection against this procedure, provided that it is clearly
stated in which manner this scientific technique is made use of.

3) phenomenology of religion never pretended to be a science of
religion. Its only pretension is that it may manage to detect the struc¬
ture of a greater or smaller complex of religious phenomena. This is
quite another business. To put it into other words: there is a striking
difference between the way in which philosophy of religion and phe¬
nomenology of religion deal with this issue. The first science tries to
formulate the essence of religion in a succinct definition. The second
discipline aims at understanding the structure and the sense of con¬
stitutive factors of religion.

Nevertheless the question of the essence of religion plays a cer¬
tain part in history of religions and phenomenology of religion. The
student of both disciplines start their investigations, aided by a mostly
subconscious notion of what religion is. Otherwise they would be unable
to sift the chaff from the grain, i.e. the religious from the non-reli¬
gious facts. Under their researches they may become conscious of this
circumstance. This discovery can be a stimulus to articulate the implicite
notion. At any rate the formula, born in this way, differs from the
mostly lapidary definitions of the essence of religion which philosophy
of religion produces. For, it either is a key word, indicating the very
heart of religion, 8 ) or it is a description of the structure of religion,
according to its elements and its composition, 9 )

4) it is a misunderstanding to assert that phenomenology of religion
passes in any sense a judgment on the question of the truth of religion.
For, it maintains the attitude of the epoche. It is equally wrong to

8) C. J. Bleeker, “The Key Word of Religion” (The Sacred Bridge ).

9) C. J. Bleeker, “La structure de la religion” (The Sacred Bridge).

C. J. Bleeker

blame this science for not pronouncing a sentence on the reality and
the truth of the religious phenomena. It balances so to say on the edge
of a knife. On the one hand it is loyal to the principle of epoche. On
the other side it must by force of its impartiality demand that religion
should be understood as what it stands for, namely as a serious testi¬
mony of religious people that they possess knowledge of God. Even
an atheistic student of history of religions must accept this view-point.
Otherwise he will do violence to the facts.

5) in regard to the present argument it should above all be realized
that the phenomenological principle is a method which can be and
actually is applied to different branches of science. It would be easy
to quote instances which show that in Holland—as surely elsewhere—
this method has found application both in f.i. psychiatry and in natural
science. The method possesses an universally scientific significance.

The Netherlands are one of the first countries where history of
religions was studied and taught at the university. The development
of the Dutch type of the discipline and its problematics may be said to
possess an archetypical value. It shows that there has always been a
tension between the religio-historical method and the theological method
which brought about many profound discussions.

This tension is increased and at the same time put on an inter¬
national level by the considerations which Dr H. Kraemer at several
occasions dedicated to the study of history of religions in its relation
to theology. Dr Kraemer who became famous as missionary and as
advocate of the oecumenical movement, occupied during a series of
years the chair of history of religions in Leiden. In this capacity he
received sufficient incitement to reflect on the matter. Kraemer keeps
history of religions on high esteem. He does not hesitate to allot to this
science its legitimate place in the faculty of theology. Nevertheless he
harbours one grievance against its students, i.e. that they pretend to
study the religious phenomena fully unbiased and that they deem
themselves exclusively able to offer scholarly reliable knowledge of
religion, whereas the theologians are suspected of giving a subjective
judgment, because they take a certain belief as starting-point of their
studies. Kraemer rightly argues that to “understand” or to “compre¬
hend” religion or a religion means to interpret it. Interpretation is
not solely or even mainly, an intellectual but an existential activity. In
regard to art this is readily acknowledged. In regard to religion this

Comparing the religio-historical and the theological method

is easily forgotten, but nevertheless religion is rather the field in which
man in all his activities, including his supposedly “purely” intellectual
activity, can not escape his existential situation. This idea of “purely”
intellectual is one of the fictions of our time. 10 ) In the opinion of
Kraemer those historians of religion who fancy that they work purely
intellectual and without any bias, do not realize that they actually
build on neo-positivistic presuppositions. This attitude only gives
entrance to unengaging knowledge and does not lead to a decision as,
according to Kraemer, might be expected from a historian of religions,
who is a member of the faculty of theology or who is in touch with
theology. He concludes that “the theologian who occupies himself with
the study and interpretation of Religion and Religions can and should
do so with a good philosophical conscience, provided he is ready to
follow the well-founded rules of the game.” The theologian who
studies history of religions in his own manner does, according to
Kraemer, not lag behind the official student of the discipline. Yea, he
takes a further step. He thinks that “the rightly required impartial love
of truth gets the best chance when one tries to look at the phenomena
in the light of Christ, the most profound “kritikos” of all things”. 11 )
He therefore makes a plea for the creation of a “theologia religionis”.
This discipline could have different starting-points.

No wonder that also other scholars have proved to be supporters
of this new science. Dr Oosterbaan who has already been quoted, is
in favour of a theological phenomenology which he considers to be an
outcome of a pneumatic theology, of a theology of the Holy Ghost. The
latter discipline is explained like this: “one of its elements would be
a theological phenomenology of the religious phenomena and of religion,
whilst another factor would be a phenomenology of the sciences and
of the philosophy in their different modes of appearance. Finally
it must describe the transition of religion and philosophy in their cul¬
mination-point, where they come together (i.e. in the religious-onto¬
logical mysticism) in so far as this can be described as an immanent
event.” 12 ) The programme of the new science sounds somewhat
vague and gives no clear idea of the nature of the projected theological

10) H. Kraemer, Religion and Christion Faith, 1956, p. 51.

11) H. Kraemer, De plaats van godsdienstwetenschap en godsdienstfenomeno-
logie in de Theologische faculteit.

12) J. A. Oosterbaan. „De fenomenologie der godsdienstfenomenologie” (Ne-
derlands Theologisch Tijdschrift, 1958/9, p. 97 sq.

C. J. Bleeker

phenomenology. One gets the impression that it will stop at pia vota.
At any rate the programme which Dr Oosterbaan has drawn up by far
exceeds the domain of history of religions and of phenomenology of
religion in their traditional forms. It is dubious whether there would
be many points of contact between the new science and the older ones.
In the opinion of the present author this contact is a conditio sine qua
non of the significance and of the right to exist of the new science.
Without the possibility of a close cooperation a “theologia religionis”
or a theological phenomenology is a still-born child.

In this connection it is interesting to know that Dr P. Tillich has
devoted some words to what he calls a “theological history of reli¬
gion”. 13 ) He remarks that “the material presented by the history of
religion and culture” is an important source of systematic theology. He
formulates this idea as follows: “This continuous and never ending
use of culture and religious contents as a source of systematic theology
raises the question: How are these contents made available for us in
a way parallel to the method by which the biblical theology makes
biblical material available?... There is no established answer to this
question, since neither a theological history of religion nor a theo¬
logical history of culture has been theoretically conceived and prac¬
tically established. A theological history of religion should interpret
theologically the material produced by the investigation and analysis
of the prereligious and religious life of mankind. It should elaborate
the motives and types of religious expression, showing how they follow
from the nature of the religious concern and therefore necessarily
appear in all religions, including Christianity in so far as it is a religion.
A theological history of religion also should point out demonic
distortions and new tendencies in the religions of the world, pointing
to the Christian solution and preparing the way for the acceptance of
the Christian message to the adherents of non-Christian religions. One
could say that a theological history of religion should be carried through
in the light of the missionary principle that the New Being in Jesus
as the Christ is the answer to the question asked implicitly and ex¬
plicitly by the religions of mankind.” It was necessary to make this
lengthy quotation in order to do justice to Tillich's intention. The
reaction of the present author is that Tillich failed to prove that the

13) P. Tillich, Systematic Theology , Vol. I, p. 44.

Comparing the religio-historical and the theological method

theological history of religion can be an independent discipline. Part
of its task, i.e. in so far as the inquiry into types and motives of
religious beliefs is concerned, can be accomplished by phenomenology
of religion, whereas the evaluation of non-Christian religions is the
concern of theology, c.q. dogmatics. This item should be treated either
in the prolegomena, or in the chapter on general revelation, or in the
paragraphy on mission of the theological or dogmatic handbook in
question. Moreover a theological history of religion is strictly taken a
contradiction in terminis. History of religions is a historical study.
Any attempt to give a theological appraisal of historic facts means a
transgression from historic study to theology. Naturally theologians
have the liberty to evaluate the historic course of events. However, this
is a matter of their own concern and responsibility and is not any longer
the business of historians or historians of religions.

Obviously Kraemer has a discipline in mind which works side by
side with the traditional phenomenology of religion. He formulates its
nature and task like this: “My own line is that “theologia religionis” is
an attempt to clarify religion as a human phenomenon, in the light of
Jesus Christ, the true man, the normal man, the only normal man in his
relation to God, man and world.” This means that theology and also the
faculty of theology must have the courage “to clarify the religion on
the basis of solid knowledge in the light of its own standard and to
make in this way its specific contribution to the science of religion ”
He adds: “It is utterly astonishing that one has still to fight with the
representatives of the science of religion in the faculty of theology
about this right and this duty as if it was evident and solely scientific
to acknowledge without discussion the competence of philosophy of
religion to behave as the authority which has the right and is able to
produce a normative and regulative idea of religion.” What Kraemer
says here about philosophy of religion applies in a sense also to history
of religions and phenomenology of religion.

The last quotation raises the presumption that Kraemer’s proposal
encountered resistence. So is actually the case. This goes forth from a
discussion between Dr Th. P. van Baaren, professor of the history of
religions in Groningen en Dr Kraemer in the “Nederlands Theologisch
Tijdschrift” (Dutch Theological Journal) 14 ) Van Baaren first of ail

14) June and October i960.

C. J. Bleeker

defends the so called “duplex orde” which in the opinion of Kraemer,
apart from its historical value, essentially is an unsound construction.
Thereafter he states: “Naturally dogmatic theology has the full right
to judge the other religions from its standpoint.” Theologia religionis”
in the sense of Professor Kraemer is a beautiful and valuable discipline,
but it is totally different from the science of religion in the accepted
sense of the word and one should not blame the students of the latter
science for not practising it, for, it simply is not their concern. How¬
ever, I acclaim the existence of such a discipline without any reservation
provided that it is build on solid knowledge of science of religion in
the traditional sense. My only objection is that the results of this disci¬
pline should be in any sense normative for the science of the “ordinary”
science of religion. The opposite naturally also holds true.” The present
author wholeheartedly subscribes this statement. Nobody can object to
the creation of a “theologia religionis”, provided that it does not claim
authority over the ordinary history of religions and provided that it
does not pretend to be the true history of religions which offers the
deeper insight into the religious phenomena. It is quite conceivable
that the new science would supplement and enrich the present religio-
historical knowledge and insight. Provisionally the “theologia religionis”
is a hypothetical entity. So long there is no book of some extent available,
proving its right to exist, this new science is no serious partner in the
discussion. Moreover it is dubious whether the principal part of its
task could not be performed by dogmatics.

In another sense the question of the religio-historical method appears
in one of the writings of W. Cantwell Smith, 15 ) This scholar critically
discusses the concept of “religio” and the terms which are used for the
worldreligions. The scrutiny leads to the conclusion that both the notion :
religion and words as Christianity, Buddhism, Islam should be dropped,
because they thward the real religio-historical insight. Instead thereof
two notions should be introduced, i.e. “an historical-cumulative tra¬
dition” and “the personal faith of men and women”. Elsewhere it
becomes clear what has moved Smith to make this statement. 16 ) He
opposes to the impersonal character of a great deal on the religio-
historical studies. He puts forward the thesis: “The study of a religion

15) W. Cantwell Smith, The Meaning and End of Religion.

16) W. Cantwell Smith, “Comparative Religion: Whither-Why?’’ (The History
of Religions, Essays in Methodology, 1959).

Comparing the religio-historical and the theological method

is the study of persons." This means that his concern is the living
faith of men. In his opinion one can only get to know this by conver¬
sations with the adherents of the religion in question. This is at the
same time the only manner to find a definition of religion which is
really valuable. Therefore his conclusion runs: “No statement about
religion is valid unless it can be acknowledged by that religion's be¬
lievers ... It is the business of comparative religion to construct state¬
ments about religion that are intelligible within at least two traditions
simultaneously". This approach is by no means ineligible. But it is not
always appropriate. It can not be applied to the study of the religions
of antiquity, for the simple reason that the adherents thereof can no
longer be interviewed. These religions form an important segment of
the field of study of history of religions. In regard to the religions of
the present it is dubious whether even intelligent professors thereof
have a thorough knowledge of their own religion. The expert often
knows essential peculiarities which escape the attention of the believers.
The conception of the believers must be supplemented and verified
by the expert insight of the historian of religions. Therefore the method,
advocated by Smith, has only a limited validity. His proposal to
eliminate the notion: religion and the terms generally used for the
worldreligions can not be accepted. Nobody is blind to the problematics,
involved for instance in the term: Islam. But history of religions would
be doomed to inactivity, if it were bereft of its present apparatus of
notions, how imperfect these terms may be.

Still a third attack is made on the phenomenological method. It is
undertaken by people who believe that this discipline should serve social,
ethical or religious causes, such as the fraternization of the nations,
worldpeace or a better understanding between the followers of the
religions of the earth. Congresses for the history of religions generally
are attended by some persons who cherish these ideals and expectations.
Even lecturers may voice the opinion. A noble and learned spokesman
of this standpoint was the late Dr Fr. Heiler. Repeatedly he has with
great warmth broken a lance for the idea. His conception can best be
gathered from an article, bearing the significant title: “History of
Religions as a Preparation for the Co-operation of Religions". 17 ) He
argues therein that history of religions leads to the insight that “there

17) The History of Religions, Essays in Methodology, 1959, p. 132 sq.

C. J. Bleeker

are seven principal areas of unity which the high religions of the earth
manifest’’ (the reality of the transcendent, this transcendent reality
immanent in human hearts, this reality the highest good, this reality of
the Divine ultimate love, the way of man to God the way of sacrifice,
the way to the neighbor, Love the most superior way to God) and that
“a new era will dawn upon mankind when the religions will rise to true
tolerance and co-operation in behalf of mankind.” It is evident that peace
among the nations and tolerance between the adherents of the different
religions are ideals which deserve the devotion of all right thinking men.
Thus organisations as “The World Congress of Faiths” and „The World
Council of Churches” which respectively try to mobilize all believers and
all Christians in a fight against intolerance and injustice, and insist on
mutual understanding and unity, can make an appeal in wide circles. 18 )
Whether an historian of religious supports these movements is up to his
personal decision. As a scholar he would go too far by contending that
this work is part of the task of history of religions. The discipline should
keep aloof from such activities. 19 ) In conformity with the study of
history in general, history of religions is charged with the task and
presenting a scholarly reliable picture of the religions of the past and of
the present. It appears to me that Heiler is mistaken in double respect.
Firstly it is questionable whether critical study of history of religions
really can prove that there is unity between the higher religions in the
seven areas which he mentions. It is to be feared that this is wishful
thinking. Secondly the problem of religious tolerance which Heiler
thinks will be brought about by mutual understanding of the followers
of the high religions, actually is more complicated than he suggests. This
has been pointed out by Dr R. J. Z. Werblowsky in a penetrating and
matter of fact argument dealing with “Commitment and Indiffer¬
ence”. 20 ) He rightly states that tolerance is not only a purely religious
affair, but also a socio-psychological phenomenon. He further remarks
that the idea of tolerance mostly results from a “philosophical mystical
religiosity”. Adherents of this religiosity often make the demand on
certain religions, i.e. the prophetic ones, that they “should abandon

18) See: Moses Jung, Swami Nikhilananda, Herbert W. Schneider, Relations
among Religions, A Handbook of Politics and Principles, 1963.

19) C. J. Bleeker, ,,Wat beoogt de studie van de godsdienst?” (Nederlands
Theologisch Tijdschrift), Oct. '1961, p. 1 sq.

20) Robert Waley Cohen Memorial Lecture, 1967.

Comparing the religio-historical and the theological method

some of their basic principles”. It is evident that one can hardly expect
that this demand is always granted. This means that it is wrong to
expect that all religions are able and even are willing to further tolerance
unconditionally. Nevertheless there is, as Werblowsky says, “a “holy
indifference” that stems from “an ultimate commitment”.” The future
task must be “to break through, beyond tolerance, exclusiveness and co¬
existence to the full communion of the pluralist saints”.

The preceding argument leads to the following conclusions in regard
to the relation of the religio-historical and the theological method:

1) when history of religions and theology claim to be sciences, they
are only permitted to use one, common method, i.e. the critical one.
This means that they must treat their object according to the criteria
of truth and reliability which respective are valid in both diciplines.
Unfortunately offences are often committed against this general rule.
In both sciences it happens that people work uncritically. They present
untenable theses and they manipulate facts of doubtful value, to the
detriment of the authority of their science.

2) it has been stated that the specific method of a discipline results
from its aim. Therefore a comparison between the religio-historical and
the theological method is rather difficult and to a certain extent un¬
profitable. At any rate in transfering the method of the one science
to the other one should act with great caution. However, it has been
stated that the religio-historical method, the principle of the science of
religion, plays a great part in some fields of the encyclopaedia of the¬
ology. This may conversively be the case with the theological method
as will presently be shown.

3) the character and also the method of theology in the strict sense
of the word are determined by a) its object, i.e. the belief in God and
b) its aim, namely the renewal of this belief. On account of its object
theology is engaged on divine truth. Being embodied in human pro¬
nouncements this truth must be evoked by critical research. In the
last resort it can not be treated in an unengaged way. It forces the
theologian to assume an attitude, to make a choice, to take a decision.
This act includes the task of adapting the divine truth to the present
situation and of renewing the Christian faith. When a theologian does
not create new theological thoughts, he merely repeats the statements
of previous generations and he sticks fast in history of dogmas.

4) history of religions studies cultural phenomena, having a religious

C. J. Bleeker

significance, i.e. human actions and words, institutions and products
of human activity which testify to the presence of religious faiths.
History of religions cannot make pronouncements about God, His
existence or His nature. The word: revelation does not fit in with its
terminology. At best the historian of religions can make use of the
notion: hierophany, following in the steps of M. Eliade, 21 ), or say that
some phenomena testify to an encounter of man with the Holy. It is
not the duty of the historian of religions to create something new. He
should respect the facts as they are. He should listen to what religious
people tell. He must try to understand the faith of the believers. 22 )

5) thus there is a marked difference between history of religions
and theology in the way in which they deal with religious values. The
theologian ultimately assumes a personal attitude towards religious
values. The historian of religions acknowledges the existence of religious
values and tries to understand their significance. But his method should
be completely free from any value judgment.

6) in the context of the argument the general description of the
task of history of religions presented in 4) and 5) needs further quali¬
fication. The decisive question is in which sense the discipline is taken.
Is it an attempt to trace the development of great religious ideas or does
it consist in a painstaking research of details, partly of a cultural, social,
economic or historic nature, the results of which are published in
numerous articles and monographs ? In the last case this type of religio-
historical work falls outside the scope of the problematics at stake. In
the first instance when personal insight and phantasy of the researcher
play a part, the comparison of the religio-historical and of the theological
method makes good sense and is a burning and highly interesting issue.

7) though history of religions and theology are independent disci¬
plines, they influence one another and they can learn much from each
other's method. This interaction could have the following effect:
a) history of religions should never forget that religion is always cen¬
tered round an absolute truth. Moreover it must search for true and
pure religion which is mostly hidden among heaps of non-religious or
quasi-religious facts. These are two view-points which theology would
emphasize, b) theology should realize that in a great deal of its work,

21) M. Eliade, Traite d’Histoire des Religions, 1949.

22) W. B. Kristensen, Inleiding tot de godsdienstgeschiedenis, 1955, p. 22 sq.

Comparing the religio-historical and the theological method

especially in historical studies, the only valid method is that of science
of religion. For this method guarantees its scholarly character and its
academic standard.

8 ) more important than the mutual influence is perhaps the fact that
the two disciplines charge one another with a certain task and that in
the following way: history of religions urges theology to take the
problem of the value of the non-Christian religions extremely serious.
In an article on “The Significance of the History of Religions for the
Systematic Theologian”. 23 ) Tillich rightly says that “revelatory ex¬
periences are universally human”. He enumerates five points, taken
from the study of history of religions, which are in his opinion systematic
presuppositions. These remarks show the way. Theologians who are
expected to be forerunners in spiritual matters, should have the courage
of definitely solve the age-long problem of the relation between Chris¬
tianity and the non-Christian religions, and that by inserting in one way
or another the knowledge of God, present in these religions, into its
doctrine on revelation. This is what the modem world expects and
hopes for. 24 ) On the other hand the historian of religions can not
fully keep aloof from the religious crisis of our age. Many people are
spiritually uprooted. The relationship between the followers of different
religions is often poisoned by hate, distrust and misunderstanding. Dr
Werblowsky rightly remarks: “The students of religion cannot preach
mutual understanding, but they are expected to foster strictly by their
work a spirit of sympathy and tolerant understanding”. 25 ) I myself
have once written on this issue: “It is our duty to spread our light to
people who do not know properly what religion is. But our task is not
conversion to faith whatsoever, but simply enlightening”. 2 6

23) The History of Religions, Essays on the Problem of Understanding, 1967,
p. 242 sq.

24) C. J. Bleeker, Christ in Modern Athens, the Confrontation of Christianity
with Modern Culture and the non-Christian Religions, 1965.

25) Hibbert Journal, Vol. 58, 1959.

26) Numen, Vol. VIII, Fasc. 2-3, p. 239.

THE ESCHATOLOGY OF THE JATAKAS

ALLAN J. BEHM

Canberra, Australia

Distinguished as realised — finality as it is realised in the present —
and real or ultimate — finality under its essential aspect of absolute
goal — eschatology has arisen, in Christian theology, as a framework
whereby the relation of the present to the future, temporal existence
to eternal existence, present action to future reward and punish¬
ment, and the redeemed to the redeemer is clarified and justified. The
application of such a framework to the Buddhist problem of finality
can elucidate the problems and their solutions. Yet such a comparative
study demands caution, since the structure is generally related to the
structured in such a way that it must be modified if it is to be applied
to a different set of problems. Such a modification suggests that a
different result and different emphases will occur.

The Jdtakas, forming part of the Khuddaka Nikaya, the last section

of the Sutta Pitaka, are a collection of 547 poems and stories purporting

to the Buddha's recollections of his prevous existences as a bodhisattva.

As the tradition has it the Sutta Pitaka was recited at the Council of

•

Rajagrha in 477, and there is no real reason to deny this, or to exclude
The Jdtakas as part of the Rajagrha canon. It is clear, however, that
they were originally included in a form different from that of the Pali
Canon as it now is, and it is hardly likely that there were 547 Jatakas
at the time of Rajagrha. The gdthds are clearly survivors of an oral
tradition, and one supposes that the Buddhist preachers were left to
narrate the context and provide the ethical or religious dimension.

The language of the gdthds is much more archaic than that of the stories;
and it certainly seems more probable to suppose that they are the older kernal
of the work, and that thus in its original form the Jataka.. . consisted only
of these verses. It is quite true that they are unintelligible without the story. *)

1) E. B. Cowell (ed.), in The Jataka (reprint London: Luzac and Co., 1957),
preface, p. x.

The Eschatology of the Jatakas

Originally a collection of folk-tales, quite probably pre-Buddhist, some
of the gathas are found in other Buddhist writings, the Dhammapada
for example, and the tales are portrayed in sculptures as early as the
first century B.C. They do not appear in their present canonical form
until Buddhaghosa allegedly collected, expanded and commented on
them in Ceylon around 400 A.D.

The aim of these tales of the Buddha’s previous existence is to provide
a theology for the Buddhist layman. Particularly concerned with the
Doctrine of Transmigration, the Ten Perfections, the greatness, power
and authority of the Buddha, The Jatakas provide the faithful with a
practical guide to successful Buddhist living and a satisfactory solution
to the problem of destiny. A. Foucher puts the catechetical implications
of The Jatakas well:

In view of the proliferation and long success of the Jatakas we must admit
that the religious and the zealous layman equally benefit from them. Through
them, they more or less satisfy the curiosity which was, for them as for us,
the great Unknown — the secret of our destiny. 2 )

To implement their aim and guarantee moral authority The Jatakas are
presented as the dicta of the Buddha himself. In the introductory
baccup pannavatthu, or 'story of the present’ the various circumstances in
the Buddha’s life which prompted the birth-stories are related. At the
end of each story is given a short summary where the Buddha identifies
in the present each of the dramatis personae, demonstrating his extensive
power of recollection of the past — a necessary verification of the Doc¬
trine of Transmigration. The point or moral of each story is presented
in one or more gathas, uttered by the Buddha either as the hodhisattva
or in persona propria . The first-person utterances of the Buddha afford
the stories an aura of authenticity which invests the didactic method
with a hagiographical quality. 3 )

Both the internal and external evidence 4 ) indicate that the use of
the first person is a literary artifice, a fact further emphasized by
the inconsistencies in doctrine which occur. This is noticed particularly
in the attitude taken to women. Distinctly antifeminist in both moral
and implication, many of the stories take a quite derogatory stance,

2) A. Foucher, Les Vies Anterieurts du Bouddha (Paris: Presses Universi-
taires de France, 1955), pp. 71-2.

3) loc. cit.

4) Cf. previous remarks on the canonicity of The Jatakas;

3 2

Allan J. Behrn

describing women as “lustful, profligate, vile and degraded” 5 ) — “no
limits check their sin”. 6 ) On the other hand, women like Sujata are
“faithful, virtuous and dutiful”, 7 ) and another the Bodhisattva extols

Known to fame as peerless wife,

Sharing weal and woe of life
Equal she to either fate,

Fit with even kings to mate. 8 )

Some stories admit a qualified goodness to women: “Save the Realm of
Brahma, there is no place from which women are excluded” 9 ), whilst
others imply male-female equality, as when Slvali adopted the ascetic
mode of life, and “attained absorption and became destined to birth in
the Brahma world”. 10 ) Again, several of the stories encourage men to
leave their wives and families, in what seems to be an extraordinary lapse
of justice, and embrace the monastic life, 11 ) whilst others encourage
marriage and mutual love, fidelity and harmony. 12 ) Kingship is another
area in which The Jdtakas evidence conflicting theories; some imply
a Divine Right of Kings doctrine 13 ) whilst others seem to involve
something like a Social Contract theory. 14 ) These inconsistencies, due
partly to the popular and non-theoretical orientation of the stories
and partly to the timelag between the Gathds and the commentary
narratives, indicate that any findings on a Buddhist eschatology must
be approached cautiously. Though there is a little cross-reference in
this article, no claim is made concerning the orthodoxy of the eschatology
deduced.

THE REALIZED ESCHATOLOGY
The eschatological leit-motif of The Jdtakas is found aphoristically

Each one shall fare according to his deed,

And reap the harvest as he sows the seed,

Whether of goodly herb, or maybe noxious weed. 15 )

5) Asdtamanta Jataka, no. 6i.

6) Kunala Jataka , no. 536.

7) Manic ora Jataka, no. 194.

8) Succaja Jataka, no. 320.

9) Kuldvaka Jataka , no. 31.

10) Mahdjanaka Jataka , no. 539.

11) Kalyanadhamma sp Jataka, , no. 171.

12) Cf. Godha Jataka, no. 333.

13) Cf. Nigrodha Jataka no. 445, and Abbhantara Jataka , no. 281 (?).

14) Cf. Gandatindu Jataka, no. 520.

15) Dhonasdkha Jataka, no. 353. Also cf. Gal. 6: 8.

The Eschatology of the Jatakas

Such a docrine of merit provides an ethical as well as a doctrinal basis
for the key doctrine of Transmigration. One’s life of virtue may lead
to rebirth in heaven; one’s life of vice may lead to rebirth in hell; 16 )
one may return to the terrestrial order in a higher or lower state.
Used respectively as an encouragement or a threat, heaven and hell
figure in numerous tales. On one occasion, for example, Sakka used
hell as the threatened consequence of a merchant’s misdeeds, and the
repentant merchant Bilarikosiya, after a life of almsgiving, 17 ) was
reborn in the Heaven of the Thirty-Three.

“You have heard tell of a great merchant of Benares, who lived in this city
once upon a time, and built halls of almonry, and in charity gave much?”
“Yes”, said they, “we have heard of him”. ’T am that merchant”, he said,
“and by those gifts I am now become Sakka, king of the gods; and my son,
who did not break my tradition, has become a God, Canda; and his son is
Suriya, and his son is Matali, and his son is Pancasikha; of these, yonder is
Canda, and that is Suriya, and this is Matali the charioteer, and this again is
Pancasikha, now a heavenly musician, once father of yonder lewd fellow!
Thus potent is giving of gifts; therefore wise men ought to do virtuously”.
Thus speaking, with a view to dispelling the doubts of the people there
assembled, they rose up in the air, and remained poised, by their mighty
power surrounding themselves with a great host, their bodies all ablaze, so
that the whole city seemed to be on fire. Then Sakka addressed the crowd:
“We left our heavenly glory in coming hither, and we came on account of
this sinner Bijarikosiya, this last of his race, the devourer of all his race. In
pity for him are we come, because we knew that this sinner had broken the
tradition of his family, and burnt the almonry, and haled forth the beggars
by the throat, and had violated our custom, and that by ceasing to give alms
he would be born again in hell.” Thus did he discourse to the crowd, telling the
potency of alms-giving. Bijarikosiya puts his hands together in supplication,
and made a vow; “My lord, from this time forth I will no more break the
family custom, but I will never eat, without sharing with another my own
supplies, even the water I drink and the tooth-cleaner which I use.”

Sakka having thus humbled him, and made him self-denying, and established
him in the Five Virtues, went away to his own place, taking the four gods
with him. And the merchant gave alms as long as he lived, and was born in
the heaven of the Thirty-Three. 18 )

16) ‘Heaven’ and ‘hell’ are here used generically.

17) Almsgiving, one of the Ten Perfections, is often the moral stressed in a
heaven-hell context. Cf. for example the Duddada Jdtaka , no. 180:

“ ‘Tis hard to do as good men do, to give as they can give, Bad men can
hardly imitate the life which good men live. And so, when good and evil go
to pass away from earth, The bad are bom in hell below, in heaven the good
have birth.”

18) Bilarikosiya Jdtaka , no. 450. It is to be remarked here that Sakka and the
other gods help men along the path of virtue.

Numen XVIII

Allan J. Behrn

The implications here are unambiguous — the quality of the afterlife
is dependent on the quality of action in the earthly existence.

i. Heaven

'Heaven' is commonly distinguished in Buddhist teaching into various
heavens. Very many of the tales end with the hero being "reborn in
the realm of Brahma”. This Brahmaloka is nowhere described in any
detail, nor are any of its twenty heavens mentioned. It appears as an
indefinite but important heaven, a reward for virtue. There are, how¬
ever, other heavens mentioned: the heaven of the Four Great Kings; 19 )
the first of the six Kama-heavens, or Devaloka; the heaven of the
Thirty-Three; and the heaven of the Thirty-Six Sakkas. These appear
to be arranged hierarchically in the Mandhatu Jdtaka, no. 258. Two
other ill-defined spirit-worlds are mentioned favourably; the Yama-
world, the third world of sense, 20 ) and the Peta-world , or world of the
spirits, 21 ) which appears as a kind of purgatory. 22 ) In addition, the six
celestial worlds are mentioned, but without any explicitation. 23 )
Heaven is visualized in spatial terms, and the heavens of The Jdtakas
imply corporeal existence. The Nimi Jdtaka, no. 541, devotes many
gdthas to a fabulous description of heaven:

Behold you mansion with five pinnacles:

There, deckt with garlands, lies upon a couch

A most puissant woman, who assumes

All kinds of maj esty and wondrous power...

There are seven mansions, shining clear and bright,

Where dwells a mighty being, righly dight,

Who with his wives inhabits them ...

Yon mansion built of jewels, shining bright,

Symmetrical, proportioned, a fair sight,

Where in divinest melody around,

Songs, dances, drums and tabours do resound...

19) Sirikdlakanni Jdtaka , no. 382; Campeyya Jdtaka, no. 506.

20) Hatthipdla Jdtaka, no. 509.

21) Nimi Jdtaka, no. 541.

22) On this point, cf. B. C. Law, The Buddhist Conception of Spirits (Lon¬
don: Luzac and Co., 1936) who says: “In many cases... when the offence was
very serious, the sinner suffered for thousands of years in hells and then they
came up to wear out the remnants of their sin as petas ...

From the hells they come up to the upper regions and go through a purgatory,
as it were, in their peta-life ... Many of the petas are described as having been
transformed into the peta beings directly they died, without going into hell,
(pp. 108-9).

23) Hatthipdla Jdtaka, no. 509.

The Eschatology of the Jatakas

and indicates mansions “with many a pinnacle, all manner of flowers
about, and fine trees, echoing with songs of birds of all kinds”, with
luxurious provisions, dancing girls and nymphs, and so on. The heaven
of the Thirty-Three, which this vision described, is mentioned in
twenty five of The Jatakas . 24 ) From the various contexts in which
it is cited the heaven of the Thirty-Three is open to both men and
women; 25 ) Buddhas go there after working a miracle; 26 ) when one's
merit is exhausted, one must decend to the terrestrial order. 27 ) Four
of the tales narrate the rebirth of the bodhisattva from the heaven of
the Thirty-Three, 28 ) and in several of the stories the bodhisattva
leaves the world to be reborn as Sakka. 29 ) It is clear, too, that rebirth
is possible not only from the various heavens to earth, but from one
heaven to another. Upon his death Nalakara and his father “were bom
in the heaven of the Thirty-Three, and dwelt in the six heavens of
sense one after the other in direct and in reverse succession”. 30 )

2 . Hell

Perhaps significantly in a lay-oriented catechesis, hell is treated in
The Jatakas at greater length than is heaven. As was earlier pointed
out, hell is the punishment due for misdeeds: “Wrong to hell leads men
astray”. 31 ) The bodhisattva exclaims to the hunter who hurled his
javelin, “You may have missed me, my good man; but depend upon it,
you have not missed the reward of your conduct, namely, the eight large

24) Kulavaka Jdtaka, no. 31; Mora Jdtaka, no. 159; Asadisa Jdtaka, no. 181;
Samgamavacara Jdtaka, no. 182; Mandhdtu Jdtaka, no. 258; Kakkaru Jdtaka,
no. 326; Asahka Jdtaka, no. 380; Bilarikosiya Jdtaka, no. 450; Udaya Jdtaka,
no. 458; Kama Jdtaka, no. 467; Kalihgabodhi Jdtaka t no. 479; Sadhina Jdtaka,
no. 494; Somanassa Jdtaka, no. 505; Hatthipdla Jdtaka, no. 509; Kumbha Jdtaka,
no. 512; Alambusa Jdtaka, no. 523; Kusa Jdtaka , no. 531; Sudhabhojana Jdtaka,
no. 535 ; Nimi Jdtaka, no. 541; Khandahala Jdtaka, no. 542; Mahdndradakassapa
Jdtaka, no. 544; Vidhurapandita Jdtaka, no. 545; Mahdummaga Jdtaka, no. 546;
Vessantara Jdtaka, no. 547.

25) Udaya Jdtaka, no. 458.

26) Sarabhamiga Jdtaka, no. 483.

27) Sadhina Jdtaka, no. 494.

28) Kakkaru Jdtaka, no. 326; Somanassa Jdtaka, no. 505; Mahdummaga Jdtaka,
no. 546; Vessantara Jdtaka, no. 547.

29) e.g. Kelislla Jdtaka, no. 202; Bilarikosiya Jdtaka, no. 450.

30) Surici Jdtaka, no. 489; repeated in Hatthipdla Jdtaka, no. 509.

31 ) Samkicca Jdtaka, no. 530.

Allan J. Behm

and the sixteen lesser hells and all the five forms of bonds and
torture”. 32 )

Sanjiva, Kalasutta and Roruva, great and small,

Sanghata, Great Avici, are names that may well appal,

With Tapana and Patapana, eight major hells in all. 33 )

The greatest of the eight hells, Avici, is vigorously depicted: “A pit
of red-hot embers, eighty cubits deep, filled with Acacia-charcoal, all
ablaze and aflame”. 34 ) It is the place of Adhamma, 35 ) of ultimate
torment, 36 ) the opposite of Bhavagga — the highest Brahmaloka. 37 )
Just as the lying king Apacara was swallowed into Avici, 38 ) so was
the arch-liar and heretic Devadatta and the five hundred families of his
attendants. 39 ) Various other hells, such as the Ussada and the Khura-
dhura, with Veteran! the river of hell, 40 ) the hell of the Four Iron
Cauldrons, 41 ) the Raven hell, 42 ) the Lotus hell where Kokalika the
heretic bums 43 ) and the hell of Mara 44 ) are mentioned, and described
collectively as “hot, covered all with burning flames of fire”. 45 ) “Blind
darkness is there, and no moon or sun, a hell ever more tumultuous
and dreadful; it is not known as either day or night”. 46 )

Hell, like heaven is visualized spatially, and like heaven is only
temporary. When sin has been purged, re-birth is possible. This is
implied in the following story:

Now at that time one of the damned who had put on the circlet and was
suffering the tortures of hell, asked the Bodhisatta — “Lord, what sin have
I committed?” The Bodhisatta detailed the man’s evil deeds to him and uttered
this stanza:

32) Kuruhga Jataka, no. 21.

33) Samkicca Jataka , no. 530.

34) Khadirangara Jataka, no. 40.

35) Dhamma Jataka, no. 457.

36) Mugapakkha Jataka, no. 538.

37) Mahdummaga Jataka, no. 546.

38) Cetiya Jataka, no. 422.

39) Samuddavanija Jataka, no. 466.

40) Samkicca Jataka, no. 530.

41) Lohakumbhi Jataka, no. 314.

42) Mahan dr adakassapa Jataka, no. 544.

43) Takkariya Jataka, no. 481.

44) Khadirangara Jataka, no. 40.

45) Nimi Jataka, no. 541.

46) Mahandr adakassapa Jataka, no. 544.

The Eschatology of the Jatakas

From four to eight, to sixteen thence, and so
To thirty-two insatiate greed doth go,

— Still pressing on till insatiety
Doth win the circlet’s grinding misery.

So saying he went back to the realm of the Devas, but the other abode in
hell till his sin had been purged from him. Then he passed thence to fare
according to his deserts. 47 )

Corporeal existence is implied, as when the razor sharp wheel falls
on Mittavinda and crushes him. 48 ) In fact, the hell of The Jatakas
bears a close resemblance to the purgatory 49 ) of medieval Christian
theology, the main characteristics of which were punishment and
temporality. This purgatorial aspect of hell is best exemplified in thfc
Mittavinda Jataka , no. 82:

No more to dwell in island palaces
Of crystal, silver, or of sparkling gems, —

With flinty headgear thou’rt invested now;

Nor shall its grinding torture ever cease
Till all thy sin be purged and life shall end.

3. The Present Life

The various accounts of heaven and hell involve a cyclic theory of
time consonant with the cyclic theory of personal or psychological time
upon which the theory of transmigration is evidently founded. These
two places, for such indeed they are, are temporary and perhaps tem¬
poral. Unlike the heaven and hell of Christian theology, they are
realized eschata, not ultimate, since they involve change — impermanence
that does not transcend the material order. This is important, since
it effectively means that there is a future realized eschatology for each
individual that does not coincide with the real eschatology. It is evident
from many of the identificatory passages in The Jatakas that the present
also is an element of the realized eschatology, at least insofar as it is
qualitatively determined by past action. Yet it seems probable that the
present shares in the realized eschatology in a more significant way.

Where is kindness, truth, and justice, temperance and self-control,

There no death can find an entrance; thither lies each saintly soul. 50 )

47) Mittavinda Jataka , no. 104.

48) Mittavinda Jataka , no. 369.

49) Cf. previous remarks on the peta- world, n. 22. Enlightenment on the role
of spirits may be found in N. Chakravarti’s “Spirit Belief in the Jataka Stories”,
Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal , n.s. Vol. x (1914), pp. 257-63.

50) Upasalha Jataka, no. 166.

Allan J. Behm

Very many of the Jdtaka tales encourage a virtuous life, and in
particular single out the Ten Perfections. 51 ) These, in so many Jatakas,
are encouraged as goals in life. Again and again, especially in the
stories where he appears as a sannydsin, rsi, preacher, etc., the bodhi-
sattva’s virtues are so marvellous that it is through them that miracles
are wrought, instanced by the cure of Dhataratta's foot. 52 ) There is,
then, a realized eschatology in the practice of virtue, since through the
practice of virtue one approaches the highest state — Arahatship. As
the Apannaka Jdtaka , no. i, stresses, one who has found his refuge in
the Buddha, the Doctrine, and the Order “shall not pass hence to states
of suffering”.

THE REAL OR ULTIMATE ESCHATOLOGY: NIRVANA

Though many of The Jatakas tell of various people who have attained
to Arahatship — Nirvana — there is no extensive treatment of the
subject, which remains difficult to the western commentator. 53 ) As
The Jatakas have it, Nirvana is attained through the threefold method
of contemplation, asceticism and zealous effort.

One thing there is, Brethren, which, if practised and developed, conduces to
utter loathing of the world’s vanities, to the cessation of passion, to the end
of being, to peace, to insight, to enlightment, to Nirvana. What is this one
thing ? — The meditation on the thought of the Buddha. 64 )

The same Jdtaka equates meditation on the thought of the Buddha
to walking by truth: “What is called walking by truth . .. finally is the
giver of Arahatship”. Beyond contemplation, one must renounce worldly
vanities, 55 ) usually by assuming the hermit's life. Sakka says of Akitti:
“He is dissatisfied with all kinds of being, and for Nirvana's sake dwells
in the forest. 56 ) Thirdly, a zealous campaign must be waged against
concupiscence — only those who makes strenous effort accomplish
sainthood. 57 ) “Zeal is the way to Nirvana”. 58 )

51) On this point cf. A. Foucher’s excellent discussion “Le Bodhisattva et
les Perfections” in his Les Vies Anterieures du Bouddha , pp. 301-34.

52) Hamsa Jdtaka, no. 502.

53) Cf. G. R. Welbon, The Buddhist Nirvana and its Western Interpreters,
(Chicago. University of Chicago Press, 1968). esp. the Preface.

54) Apannaka Jdtaka , no. 1.

55) Cullakasetthi Jdtaka , no. 4.

56) Akitta Jdtaka , no. 480.

57) Samvara Jdtaka , no. 462.

58) Gandatindu Jdtaka , no. 520.

The Eschatology of the Jatakas

The bliss that doth all sense of pain transcend,

Unwavering, unconditioned, without end,

Is by pure souls, now in Nirvana, won

Who with concupiscence long since have done. 59 )

All of these methods of attaining Nirvana the Sattubhasta Jdtaka,
no. 402, sums up as knowledge: “Knowledge is the best among the
qualities that bring the great and endless Nirvana, the rest are the
attendants of knowledge”.

Nirvana is described as the cessation of suffering. Suppavasa,
daughter of King Koliya, exclaims while in labour: “Blessed is Nirvana
wherein such suffering doth cease”. 60 ) But it is not described as a
state of Joy in the Mahayanist sense. Rather, there is no consciousness
of any distinction between joy and sorrow.

When joy turns to sorrow, and weal becomes woe,

Patient souls even pleasure may wring from their pain,

But no such distinction of feeling they know,

When the calm of Nirvana poor mortals attain. 61 )

This gatkd emphasizes the calm of Nirvana, and implies a type of
knowledge quite different from the ordinary experimental type. It is
not the preserve of the monk alone, or of those of high caste. The
equalitarian spirit of Buddhism is reflected in the following gathd:

Khattiya, Brahmin, Vessa, Sudda, and Candala, Pukkusa,

All these can be compassionate, can win Nirvana’s bliss:

Who among all the saints is there who worse or better is ?. 62 )

The single Nirvana is open to all, without any prescribed method for
its attainment* “There is only one Nirvana for all these modes of
meditation”. 63 ) “The uttermost verge of existence” 64 ) it follows upon
the last existence upon earth: 65 ) the daughter of a wealthy merchant
“had reached her final existence, and within her breast... glowed her
sure hope of winning Arahatship”. 66 ) Beyond the Brahma-world, 67 )

59) Kundla Jdtaka, no. 536.

60) Asdtarupa Jdtaka , no. 100.

61) Ekardja Jdtaka , no. 303.

62) Uddalaka Jdtaka , no. 487.

63) Kimsukopama Jdtaka , no. 248.

64) Mahdmora Jdtaka , no. 491.

65) Atthasadda Jdtaka , no. 418.

66 ) Nigrodhamiga Jdtaka , no. 12.

67) This is deduced from the Nimi Jdtaka , no. 541, when King Makhadeva,
standing in the Brahma’s heaven, pondered “Will there be Nirvana now, or not?”

Allan J. Behm

Nirvana is imperishable, 68 ) and unlike the temporal order, it is ever¬
lasting: 69 ) “Except Nirvana, which is everlasting, all things else, being
composite in their nature, are insubstantial, transient, subject to living
and death”. 70 )

The Nirvana described in The Jdtakas seems to correspond to
Lamotte’s “un sejour inebranlable”, 71 ) and at least as far as The
Jdtakas are concerned La Vallee Poussin is correct in affirming that
“at bottom Nirvana for the religious Buddhist is really synonymous
with heaven”. 72 ) It is evident that Nirvana is transcendent, eternal,
final and one, all attributes of a real or ultimate eschaton.

SPECIAL PROBLEMS

i. Relation of the Realized to the Real Eschatology

In a doctrine which is both religious and ethical, where central tenets
are held and action leads to a reward, a relation between the realized
and real eschatology is to be expected. In an embryonic fashion The
Jdtakas in fact provide a dual relationship.

A. The ‘existential relation’

The first may be described as an existential relation, where Nirvana
is realized in the terrestrial order. This serves to reinforce the trans¬
cendent aspect of Nirvana, since such a realization of Nirvana is not
dependent on or determined or defined by the time or the place in which
it occurs. It is a spatio-temporal event only from the subjective view¬
point. Such an existential relation is analogous to the workings of
Grace in the Christian solution to the problem of relating the present to
the future Aion.

68) Valahassa Jdtaka, no. 196.

69) Cf. Hiri Jdtaka, no. 363; Sattubhasta Jdtaka, no. 402; Aditta Jdtaka,
no. 424; Kunala Jdtaka, no. 536; Mahasutasoma Jdtaka, no. 537.

70) Mora Jdtaka, no. 159.

71) E. Lamotte, L’His to ire du Bouddhisme indien des origines a fere Saka
(Louvain: Publications Universitaires, 1958), p. 676.

72) Cited in G. R. Welbon, op. cit., p. 261. Note, however, Th. Stcherbatsky’s
criticism in The Conception of Buddhist Nirvana (The Hague: Mouton and Co.,
1965), pp. 23-7, and passim. Cf. also S. Radhakrishnan’s introduction to The
Dhammapada (London, OUP, 1958), pp. 46-52, for an excellent treatment of
Nirvana. Amongst other things he says: “Nirvana is not extinction, but is the
unconditioned life of the spirit” (p. 49).

The Eschatology of the Jatakas

B. The Buddha

An aspect of the Jdtaka doctrine of Nirvana which has not been
mentioned (since it is not necessary to the definition of Nirvana as
the real eschaton) is the fact that it is conferred by the Buddha. 73 )
This, combined with what may be described as the apotheosis of the
Buddha in The Jatakas, would suggest the second relation between the
realized and the real eschata — the Buddha.

There are in The Jatakas definite and unmistakeable signs of the
divinisation of the Buddha, though he never becomes God as in the
extreme Mahayanist schools. In bestowing Nirvana, for example, the
Buddha is described as something more than the human being of
primitive Buddhism:

But the All-Knowing Buddha by his supremacy in the Truth bestowed...
Arahatship with all its supernatural knowledge, even while a single meal was
in progress. And by that knowledge he grasped the whole of the sacred
texts. Oh! how great is a Buddha’s power!

Now the Blessed One, knowing full well the talk that was going on in the
Hall of Truth, thought it meet to go there. So, rising from his Buddha-couch,
he donned his two orange under-cloths, girded himself as with lightning,
arrayed himself in his orange-coloured robe, the ample robe of a Buddha,
moving with the royal gait of an elephant in the plenitude of his vigour.
Ascending the glorious Buddha-throne set in the midst of the resplendent
hall, he seated himself upon the middle of the throne emitting those six-
coloured rays which mark a Buddha, — like the newly-arisen sun, when from
the peaks of the Yugandhara Mountains he illumines the depths of the ocean.
Immediately the All-Knowing One came into the hall, the Brotherhood broke
off their talk and were silent. Gazing around on the company with gentle
loving-kindness, the Master thought within himself, “This company is per¬
fect! Not a man is guilty of moving hand or foot improperly; not a sound,
not a cough or sneeze is to be heard! In their reverence and awe of the
majesty and glory of the Buddha, not a man would dare to speak before I did,
even if I sat here is silence all my life long. But it is my part to begin; and
I will open the conversation.” 74 )

The Buddha himself claims superhuman powers. 75 ) He is omnis¬
cient, 76 ) generous and powerful, 77 ) pure and sinless 78 ) and so forth.

73) Cf. Cullakasetthi Jdtaka, no. 4, and Tittha Jdtaka , no. 25.

74) Cullakasetthi Jdtaka, no. 4.

75) Lomahamsa Jdtaka , no. 94.

76) Apannaka Jdtaka, no. 1; Vannupatha Jdtaka , no. 2; Mahdsupina Jdtaka,
no. 77; Sigdla Jdtaka, no. 148; Tin^uka Jdtaka, no. 177; Putadusaka Jdtaka,,
no. 280; Jdgara Jdtaka, no. 414; Sumahgala Jdtaka, no. 420; Suppdraka Jdtaka,

Allan J. Behm

He has “inaugurated the universal reign of religion”. 79 ) But one of
his most significant features, and here he approaches the bodhisattva
of the Mahayana, is his soteriological function. In the Nigrodhamiga
Jataka , no. 12, the bodhisattva , reborn as a deer, is prepared to lay
down his life for the sake of another deer. But the most outstanding
instance of the bodhisattva as soter occurs when a hunter is about to
slay a she-monkey, blind and weak with age.

This the Bodhisatta saw, and said to his brother, “Jollikin, my dear, this
man wants to shoot our mother! I will save her life. When I am dead, do
you take care of her.” So saying, down he came out of the tree, and called
out, “O man, don’t shoot my mother, she is blind and weak for age. I will
save her life; don’t kill her, but kill me instead!” and when the other had
promised, he sat down in a place within bowshot. The hunter pitilessly shot
the Bodhisatta. 80 )

Such a “shepherd who lays down his life for his sheep” quality is a
major step in The Jatakas apotheosis of the Buddha. A “refuge”, then,
in a special way, 81 ) as the prime exemplar of virtue and dhamma, the
Buddha is in effect the pivot between the realized and the ultimate end.

2. The relation between individual and collective eschatology

The presentation of the realized eschatology — heaven and hell —
and the real eschatology — Nirvana — in The Jatakas is most generaly
in a context of individualism. Where the Buddha admits a group of
people to Nirvana, as in the Silavimamsana Jataka, no. 305, the collec¬
tivity is accidental; he admits to Nirvana 500 individuals. Though there
is no consistently explicated doctrine of collective salvation, several
Jataka tales describe the bodhisattva leading a herd or group to safe¬
ty. 82 ) A more consistent doctrine of community is implied in The
Jatakas , doctrine of the social consequences of good and evil action. The
many tales which extol friendship indicate a social awareness, but in

no. 463; Duta Jataka , no. 478; Mahdsutasoma Jataka , no. 537; Mahaummagga
Jataka, no. 546.

77) Cullakasefthi Jataka, no. 4; Kanha Jataka, no. 29; Mulapariyaya Jataka,
no. 245; Matarodana Jataka, no. 317; J agar a Jataka , no. 414.

78) Manisukara Jataka , no. 285; Cullabodhi Jataka, no. 443.

79) Abhantara Jataka, no. 281.

80) Culanandiya Jataka, no. 222.

81) Ananusociya Jataka, no. 328.

82) Cf. for example Nalapdna Jataka, no. 20; Vanarinda Jataka, no. 57.

The Eschatology of the Jdtakas

these catechetical parables it is admonition which indicates the social
dimension. There is no such thing as secret sin:

In sooth there is no act of sin, that in this world may hidden lie,

That which the fool a secret deems, the spirits of the wood espy.
Concealment nowhere may be found, nor can a void exist for me,

E’en where no being is in sight, while I am there no void can be. 83 )

The concept of an all-pervasive bodhisattva, like the Yahweh of
psalm 138, is significant. Sin is in itself social: “A sinner is Devadatta
and sinners are all his people; the sinner keeps company with the
sinful. 84 ) Yet the worst result of sin is its debilitation of the Sangha:
“Sin among the brethren if it grows will destroy the cause of Saint-
hood.” 85 )

Such an embryonic theory of community at least implies that to
some extent one’s personal salvation and attainment of Nirvana is
related to those of other people. The constant instruction in the Ten
Virtues emphasizes duty to and membership of the Sangha. The per¬
formance of right action, then, provides the relation between the indivi¬
dual and collective eschatology.

CONCLUSION

The Jdtakas represent an important corpus of doctrines which are
not necessarily mutually consistent. Yet, because of its lay orientation,
The Jdtakas cater more or less successfully for the popular desires
and expectations. There is implied, as has been demonstrated, a signi¬
ficant eschatology which affords direction to religious doctrine and
ethical precept. Whether the theory outlined here is consonant with
theories to be found in other Buddhist writings, or a general Buddhist
eschatology, is beyond the scope of this article.

Two things, however, do appear. Firstly, the eschatology of The
Jdtakas is a process-eschatology, that is, one which is based on active
attainment (self merit) rather than the passive reception of Promise
(the merit accumulated by the bodhisattvas). To this extent is the
Jataka eschatology distinguishable from that of the Mahayana. Secondly,
the ultimate eschatology — eternal, transcendent and real — presented
by The Jdtakas seems to be a development of the (reconstructed)

83) Stlavtmamsana Jataka , no. 305.

84) Sattigumba Jataka , no. 503.

85) Kumbhakdra Jataka, no. 408.

Behm, The Eschatology of the Jdtakas

original Buddhist doctrine of 'extinction’. 86 ) This eschatology has
been deduced from the 547 birth tales. Its implications, however, are
best summed up in the final gdthds of the Iti-vuttaka, a work co-
canonical with The Jdtakas , and of approximately the same age.

Having Insight into all the world,

Into all the worlds exactly,

Detached from all the world,

In all the world without compare —

All-surpassing in everything, steadfast,

Freed from all ties,

The highest Repose belongeth to him

Having attained Nirvana, with no fear from any side.

This same Blessed and Enlightened One,

Scatheless ( antgha -), having severed (the bonds of) doubt,

Hath attained destruction of all actions ( kamma -)

(And) is released from the destruction of the Substrata.

This same Blessed and Englightened One,

This lion beyond compare,

Hath set the Wheel of Brahma in motion
For the world with its gods —”.

Thinking this, the gods and men
Who have gone to Buddha for refuge,

Will worship him, after going,

As “The Great One that hath transcended Time,

The Victorious One, best of those victorious,

Reposeful, Sage of those reposeful.

Emancipated, highest of those emancipated,

The One that hath crossed, best of those that have crossed —”.

Thinking this they will worship him

As “The Great One that hath transcended Time”;

Nor is there in the world with its gods
Any One thy equal.’ 87 )

86) Cf. Th. Stcherbatsky, op. cit., pp. 20, 24-9.

87) The Iti-Vuttaka, ed. J. H'. Moore (New York: AMS Press, 1965), § 112.
Cf. also J. Przyluski, op. cit., pp. 345, 350.

RELIGIONSWISSENSCHAFT IN POLEN *)

VON

PIOTR O. SZOLC (SCHOLZ)

Heidelberg

Wenn man versucht, einen AbrLB der polnischen Religionswissen-
schaft 1 ) zu zeichnen, so entsteht eine Reihe von Problemen, die nicht
nur methodologischer Natur sind. Religionswissenschaft war in Polen
nie in der Weise eine selbstandige wissenschaftliche Disziplin 2 ), wie es
in westeuropaischen Landern schon seit jeher selbstverstandlich ist, vor
allem in Holland, Schweden, Frankreich, Italien und Deutschland, wo
es Lehrstiihle fur religionswissenschaftliche Gebiete gibt. Sie ist in Polen
nur auf den Schreibtischen von Orientalisten, Ethnologen, Archaologen,
Soziologen, Psychologen etc. als Nebendisziplin ihrer eigentlichen For-
schung zu finden. Andererseits kann man auch nicht von einem im
wesentlichen einheitlichen religionswissenschaftlichen Denken sprechen,
da eine Anzahl von Forschern unter starkem westeuropaischen EinfluB

*) Dieser Aufsatz soil keineswegs eine Gesamtbibliographie der polnischen
Religions wissenschaft anstreben, sondern nur die wichtigsten Richtungen und Ten-
denzen innerhalb der polnischen religionswissenschaftlichen Forschung angeben.

Fiir Rat und Hilfe beim Verfassen des vorliegenden Aufsatzes, danke ich Herrn
Prof. Dr. Gunter Lanczkowski (Heidelberg) und Doz. Dr. Zygmunt Poniatowski
( Warschau).

1) Ausfiihrliche Materialien zur Geschichte der Religionswissenschaft in Polen
sind in Euhemer erschienen (vgl. besonders io (1966) 6). Siehe auch: M. Nowaczyk,
Zarys dziejow religioznawstwa w Polsce. (AbriB der Religionswissenschafts-
geschichte in Polen), Warszawa (= W.) 1962; Z. Poniatowski, IVstfp do reli-
gioznawstwa (Einfiihrung in die Religionswissenschaft), W. 3 1962, S. 66-72;
H. Swienko, Materiaux a la bibliographic de la science des religions [polnisch
( = pol.)], Euhemer (= Euh .] 4 (i960) 2, S. 62-70; 5 (1961) 4, S. 80-85; 5 (1961)
6, S. 61-65; 11 (1967) 1/2, S. 177-201; zu Biographien und zur Bibliographic siehe:
J. Krzyzanowski (Hrsg.), Slownik folkloru polskiego (Lexikon fiir polnische
Folklore) W. 1965.

2) Obwohl heute schon ein Zentrum fiir Religionswissenschaft an der Pol¬
nischen Akademie der Wissenschaft existiert, gibt es an polnischen Universitaten
noch keinen Lehrstuhl fiir religionswissenschaftliche Disziplinen; daneben findet
man jedoch Lehrstiihle fiir Religionsgeschichte und Religionsphilosophie an theo-
ligischen Hochschulen, die allerdings nicht dem internationalen Niveau ihres Fach-
bereich entsprechen.

Piotr 0 . Szolc

stand und die Religionswissenschaft auch durch die in Polen existie-
renden verschiedenen weltanschaulichen Richtungen gepragt wird. Es
laBt sich heute eine Unterteilung in marxistisch-laizistische 3 ), katho-
lische und protestantische Forscher vornehmen. Aus den entsprechenden
Elementen formt sich das allgemeine Bild der polnischen Religionswis¬
senschaft, welche sich in ihrer Spezifik von westeuropaischer Religions¬
wissenschaft unterscheidet, die im Grunde einheitliche Ziige tragt.

Die Anfange der Religionswissenschaft in Polen erwuchsen einem
vorwissenschaftlichen Interesse fur Religion, das im 18. Jahrhundert
unter dem Einfluss der Aufklarung zu Untersuchungen iiber die
Funktionen und die Bedeutung von Religion 4 ) fiihrte und daneben
Anreiz zu Forschungen iiber polnische Folklore 5 ) gab.

Das soli nicht heiBen, daB Material vorhergehenden Jahrhunderten
zu finden ware 6 ), durch das sich Interesse fiir Religion nachweisen
laBt. Vor allem in der Zeit der Reformation, ermoglicht durch das
tolerante Verhalten des polnischen Staates 7 ), den Hosius als „Asyl
der Haretiker” bezeichnete 8 ), entstand fruchtbare antitrinitarische
(sozinianische, pol. arianische) Literatur 9 ), die von groBer Bedeu-

3) Aufgrund der starken Position der katholischen Lehre hat sich in Polen
sehr friih eine antiklerikale Bewegung entwickelt, die man nicht unbedingt mit
Atheismus gleichsetzen kann. Diese Bewegung hat die Meinungen zahlreicher
polnischer Religions forscher beeinfluBt; dem zur Folge wendet sich ihre, an das
Christentum (darunter versteht sie den Katholizismus) gerichtete Kritik, eher an
eine Institution als an die eigentliche Religion.

4) Vgl. H. Hinz, „Rozwazania Koll^taja o religii” (Koll^taj’s Gedanken fiber
die Religion), Studia Filozoficzne (1958) 1, S. 86-112.

5) Vgl. W. Bienkowski, Poprzednicy Oskara Kolberga nc polu badah ludoz-
nawczych w Polsce (Vorlaufer Oskar Kolberg’s auf dem Gebiet der Volkskunde
in Polen), Wroclaw (= Wr.) 1956; siehe auch: Zb. Kuchowicz, Z dziejow
obyczajow polskich w wieku XVII i XVIII (Aus der polnischen Sittengeschichte
des 17. und 18. Jahrhunderts), W. 1957.

6) Vgl. dazu die Exkursion zum Hofe des groBen Khan Kujuk in den Jahren
1245-46, die auf die Initiative von Papst Innozenz IV. zustande kam. Sie stand
unter der Leitung von Johannes del Plano Carpini. Mitglied dieser Exkursion war
auch ein polnischer Monch, Mitverfasser des Berichts iiber diese Exkursion, der
zweifellos bedeutungsvoll fiir die Geschichte der Religionsforschung ist. Siehe:
B. Szcz^sniak, „The Mission of Giovanni del Plano Carpini and Benedict the Pole
of Vratislavia to Halicz”, JEH 7 (1956) S. 12-20 und die dort zitierte Literatur.

7) Vgl. J. Lecler, Histoire de la Tolerance au siecle de la Reforme, Paris 1955
(deutsch: Stuttgart, 1965, S. 521-567).

8) Vgl. St. Hosius, Opera omnia, Koln 1584, Bd. II, S. 225.

9) Vgl. A. Wiszowaty (Hrsg.), Bibliotheca Fratrum Polonorum, 8 Bde, Irreno-
polis/Amsterdam 1656; siehe dazu: Bibliographic von: Reformacja w Polsce”

Religionswissenschaft in Polen

Bedeutung fur die Entstehung und Entwicklung der Philosophic der
Aufklarung war 10 ).

In besagten antitrinitarischen Schriften findet man nicht nur Be-
trachtungen iiber theologische Probleme, sondern auch Schriften liber
Tolerant, das Verhaltnis der verschiedenen Religionen und Glaubens-
bekentnissen zueinander und sogar fiber den Atheismus, dessen Repra-
sentant auf polnischer Seite Casimirus Lisinsky ( poln. Kazimierz
Lyszczynski, 1634-1689) 11 ) war, der auf dem Scheiterhaufen ver-
brannt wurde.

So laBt sich als Konsequenz der geschichtlichen Entwicklung und
der geographischen Lage festhalten, daB von Anfang an Kontakte mit
dem Heidentum (Pruzzen und Litauen) 12 ) mit anderen Formen des
Christentums (russischer Orthodoxie) 13 ), mit anderen Religionen,

(Reformation in Polen) Jg. 1 (ig2i)-i3 (1963/55) in: Reformacja i Odrodzenic w
Polsce (Reformation und Renaissance in P ... 3 (1958) S. 219-287.

10) Vgl. St. Kot, Le mouvement antitrinitaire au XVI e et XVII e siecle, Huma-
nisme et Renaissance 4 (1937) S. 16-58, 109-156; Ders., Socinianismus in Poland ,
Boston 1957; ausftihrliche Bibliographie bei L. Szczucki, Arianie polscy, Euh. 3
(1959) 5, S. 588-598; 3 (1959) 6 S. 710-718; Z. Ogonowski, Socynianism polski,
W. i960; L. Chmaj, Bracia polscy. Ludzie, idee, wplywy (Polnische Briider. Leute,
Ideen, Einflusse) W. 1956; St. Cvnarski (Hrsg.), Rakow, ognisko „arianizmu”
(Rakow, Zentrum des Antitrinitarismus), Krakow (= K.) 1968.

11) Vgl. A. Nowicki, „Materiaux a la bibliographie de K. Lyszczynski” (pol),
Euh. Zeszyty Floozoficzne (Philosophische Hefte) 7 (1963) 4 S. 45-83; Euh. 9
(1965) 5, S. 131-144; 10 (1966) 1, S. 71-80; 10 (1966) 2, S. 71-88; Die reiche
Tradition des Atheismus in Polen sieht ihren Ur sprung schon in der Renaissance
(Simonis Simonii Lucensis, primum Romani, turn Calviniani, deinde Lutherani,
denuo Romani, semper autem Athei summa religio, Cracoviae 1588). Daraufhin
begann man, sich mit Atheismus zu beschaftigen (z.B. W. Tylkowski, J. Mo-
rawski), siehe dazu: A. Nowicki, „Esquisse de l’histoire de l’atheographie en
Pologne (pol.)”, Euh. 10 (1966) 6, S. 83 f.

12) Die diesbeziigliche Quellenliteratur ist umfangreich (vgl. Z. Ivinskis, Biblio¬
graphie der alten litauischen Religionen (litauisch) 1938). Besondere Aufmerk-
samkeit verdient Johannes Lasicius (Jan Lasicki), vgl. dazu in: Michalonis Lituani
de moribus Tartarorum, Lituanorum et Moschorum. Basel 1615 und dariiber siehe:
A. Mierzynski, Jan Lasicki, zrodlo do mitologii litewskiej (J. L..., Quelle zur
litauischen Mythologie) K. 1870. Von groBer Bedeutung bleibt auch das historische
Werk von Joannis Dlugossi seu Longinis canonici Cracoviensis histoiriae Polo-
nicae libri XII (Cracoviae 1863-87, Hrsg. von I. Zegota und A. Przezdziecki).

Siehe auch: S. Matusiak, Olimp polski podlug Dlugosza (Der polnische Olymp
nach Dlugosz) L. 1908; T. Sinko, „De Dlugosii praefatione Historiae Polonorum”
in Studia z dziejow kultury polskiej. W. 1949, S. 105-143; „Bibliography of the
Old-Prussian Language” (up. 1965) Acta Baltico-slavica 5 (1967) S. 257-311.

!3) Vgl. B. Szcz^sniak, a.a.O.; J. Wolinski, Polska i kosciol prawoslawny
(Polen und die orthodoxe Kirche) Lwow (= L.) 1936.

4 8

Piotr O. Szolc

besonders mit dem Judentum 14 ), und dem Islam (Tartaren und
Tiirken) 15 ), vorhanden waren, was zweifellos das Interesse fur Reli-
gionswissenschaft in Polen geformt hat, fur das auch Berichte von
Reisen 16 ), vor allem als religios-historische Quellen, nicht ohne Be-
deutung waren.

Doch sind die Anfange wissenschaftlicher Beschaftigung mit Religion
eng verbunden mit der Periode der Aufklarung 17 ), wahrend der sich
die Forschung uber slawische Antike intensivierte, die sich vor allem
mit Relikten in der slawischen Volkskultur beschaftigte. Dadurch wur-
den auch Forschungen fiber Religionsethnologie in Gange gesetzt, mit
der man sich in dieser Zeit im Rahmen der Volkskunde auseinander-
setzte. Fur deren Vater halt man einen der ftihrenden Reprasentanten
der polnischen Aufklarungsperiode, Hugo Koft^taj (1750-1812); und
zwar deshalb, weil er ein wissenschaftliches Programm 18 ) formulierte,

14) Von 1150 an gab in Polen groBere jiidische Gemeinden, die in Auseinander-
setzung mit dem Christentum standen, vor allem zur Zeit der Reformation. Vgl.
dazu: M. Bataban, Kiedy in skqd przybyli Zydzi do Polski (Wann und von wo
die Juden nach Polen kamen) W. 1930 und die dort zitierte Literatur; Ders.,
„Umyslowosc i moralnosc zydostwa polskiego w XVI w.” (Geist und Moral des
polnischen Judentums im 16. Jhdt.) in Kultura staropolska, W. 1932, S. 606-639.

15) Vgl. S. Kuczynski, Tatarzy polscy (Polnische Tartaren) W. 1938; Diplo-
matische Besuche in orientalischen Landern, vor allem in der Tiirkei, waren in
dieser Hinsicht von Bedeutung, vgl. dazu: Dyplomaci w dawnych czasach. Relacje
staropolskie z XVI-XVIII stulecia (Diplomaten in der alten Zeit. Altpolnische
Berichte aus dem 16.-18. Jhdt) K. 1959, S. 69-76; J. St. Bystron, Polacy w Ziemi
sw., Syrii i Egipcie 1147-1914 (Polen im Heiligen Land, Syrien und Agypten in
den Jahren 1147 bis 1914) K. 1930; K. Hartleb, Polskie dzienniki podrozy w
XVI w jako zrodio do wspolczesnej kultury. Uwagi i przyczynki. (Polnische
Reisetagebiicher im 16. Jhd als Quelle fur die gegenwartige Kultur. Bemerkungen
und Beitrage) L. 1920.

16) Vgl. K. Hartleb, Mikolaja Krzysztofa Radziwilla pielgrzymka do Ziemi
sw. (M ...K... R...s Pilgerschaft zum Heiligen Land) L. 1934; K. Pawlowski,
Perygrynacja do Indyi Krzysztofa P .. .w roku 1596 (Peregrinum nach Indien
des Christoph Pawlowski im Tahre 1596) W. 1914 (Hrsg. der Handschrift: T.
Baranowski); S. Stasiak, „Les Indes Portugaises a la fin du XVI e siecle d’apres
la relation du voyage fait a Goa en 1596 par Christophe Pawlowski”, Rocznik
Orientalistyczny (= RO) 3/4 (1925-27); J. Krzyszkowski, „Polacy XVIII w. na
wybrzezach Wsch. Afryki” (Polen im 17. Jhd. an den Kiisten des ostlichen
Afrikas) Misje katolickie 52 (1933) ; M. Beniowski, Historia podrozy i osobliwych
zdarzen (Geschichte von Reisen und ihren sonderbaren Ereignissen) Bde 1-4
0797 ) >' L- Oriowski, Maurycy A. Beniowski, W. 1961.

17) Siehe: J. Fabre, Stanislaus-Auguste Poniatowski et I’Europe de lumieres ,
Paris 1952.

18) Vgl. T. Sierocinski, Ks. Hugona Kollqtaja korespondencja listowna z
Tadcuszem Czackim (Briefliche Korespondenz H. K ... mit T. Cz ...), Biblioteka

Religionswissenschaft in Polen

das von grundlegender Bedeutung auch fur die erste Etappe religions-
wissenschaftlicher Untersuchungen war 19 ).

Daneben laBt sich als Erfolg dieser Forschungen auch die Entstehung
einer slawischen Archaologie verzeichnen, deren Pionier Jan Potocki
(1761-1815) 20 ), der in Westeuropa als Verfasser des „Manuscrits
trouves a Saragosse” (1804/5) bekannt wurde, ganz neues Material
fur die Erforschung des vorchristlichen Polens und RuBlands 21 ) zu-
sammenstellte und auf seinen Reisen 22 ) durch die Tfirkei, Agypten,
Spanien, Marokko, den Kaukasus und die Mongolei viele, fiir die allge-
meine Religionswissenschaft wertvolle Quellen ausfindig machte. Seine
Arbeiten fiber den Orient sind nicht die einzigen 23 ), die in jener Zeit
fiber dieses Gebiet geschrieben worden sind und in ihrer Bedeutung

Warszawska, Bd. 3 (1846) ; I. Stasiewicz, Z. problemow nauki okresu Oswiecenia
(Wissenschaftliche Probleme der Aufglarungsperiode) Wr. i960, S. 93; Aufmerk-
samkeit verlangt St. Staszic (1755-1826) Griinder der „Gesellschaft der Freunde
der Wissenschaft” (Towarzystwo Przyjaciol Nauki) im Jahre 1808 und Verfasser
des Werkes: Rod ludzki (Das menschliche Geschlecht), W. 1819-20; Biblio¬
graphic zu seinen Schriften siehe: W. Hahn (Hrsg.), St. Staszcic, Lublin ( =
Lub.) 1926.

19) Vgl. J. Kamocki, Przeglqd kwestionariuszy etnograficznych wydanych w
jezyku polskim (t)bersicht fiber die in polnischer Sprache herausgegebenen ethno-
logischen Fragebogen), Poznan ( = P.) 1953 in Archiwum Etnograficzne, Nr. 5
(S. 5. liber Fragebogen von J. 1805); W. Surowiecki, O sposobach dopelniania
historii i znajomosci Slowian (t)ber die Methoden der Erganzung der Ge-
schichte und der Kentnisse von den alten Slawen) in Roczniki Warszawskiego
Towarzystwa Przyjaciol Nauk (= Rocz. W.T.P.N.) 8 (1810) S. 82-119; K.
Wiesiolowski, „0 starozytnosciach religijnych Slowian, mieszkancow Polski”
(Dber die religiose Antike der Slawen, der Bewohner Polens) in Rocz WTPN
9 (1816); Zorian Dol^ga Chodakowski (A. Czarnowski), O slowianszczyznie
przedchrzescijanskiej (t)ber das vorchristliche Slawentum) K. 1835 (Neue Aufl.,

W. 1967).

20) Vgl. L. Kukulski, Einfiihrung in J. Potocki, Podroze (Reisen), W. 1959;
A. Briickner, Jem Potocki, W. 1911.

21) Vgl. J. Potocki, Essai sur l’histoire universelle, Recherches sur la Sarmatie
(1788); Ders., Fragments historiques et geographiques sur la Scythie, la Sarmatie
et les Slaves, Braunschweig, 4 Bde (1796); Ders., Histoire primitieve des peuples
de la Russie, Petersburg (1802). Von jeder seiner Werke sind nur 100 Exempl.
gedruckt!

22) Vgl. J. Potocki, Padroze... a.a.O.; W. Kotwicz, Jan Potocki i jego podroz
do Chin (J. P... und seine Reise nach China) Wilno (= Wil.) 1935.

23) Vgl. B. Baranowski, Znajomosc Wschodu w dawnej Polsce do XVIIIw
(t)ber die Kentniss des Orients im alten Polen bis zum 18. Jhd) Lodz (= Lo.)
1950; J. Reychman, Orient w kulturze polskiego Oswiecenia (Der Orient in der
Kultur der polnischen Aufklarungsperiode, mit Resume) W. 1964 und die dort
zitierte Literatur.

Numen XVIII

Piotr 0. Szolc

fur die Geschichte der Religionswissenschaft wie auch des Romantismus
in Polen verdienen sie uneingeschrankte Wurdigung.

Die Forschungen auf dem Gebiet der Volkskunde, deren Kronung
das Werk Oskar Kolbergs (1814-1890) 24 ) darstellt, trugen eine Fiille
von Dokumentationsmaterial uber den Volksglauben in der Magie und
der Volksdamonologie, iiber Ritual, Kult, religioses Brauchtum und
iiber Folklore ein, das in das Religions- und Volkslied trat. Sein Werk
wurde in spateren Arbeiten sehr haufig benutzt 25 ).

In dieser Zeit ist besonders schopferisch die Universitat in Wilno,
wo die Arbeiten des Professor Joachim Lelewel (1786-1861) 26 ) eine
historische und kritische Grundlage fiir andere religionsgeschichtliche
Materialien schufen, die sich in den Schriften des Ignacy Domeyko
(1802-1889) 27 ), A. B. Chodzko (1804-1891) 28 ) und anderen polni-
schen Reisenden wieder finden, die das Schicksal aus Polen vertrieben
hatte 29 ).

24) Vgl. O. Kolberg, Lnd. Jego zwyczaje, sposob zycia, mowa, podania, przysio-
wia, obzzgdy, gusla, zabobony, muzyka i tance. (Das Volk. Seine Sitten, Lebens-
formen, Sprache, Legenden, Sprichworter, Riten, Hexerei, Aberglaube, Musik
und Tanz) seit 1857 sind 60 Bde erschienen; iiber O. Kolberg siehe: K. Judenko,
in Euh. 9 (1965) 1, S. 53-64.

2 5 ) Vgl. z.B. K. Szulc, Mythyczna historya polska i mythologia slowianska (Die
mythysche Geschichte Polens und die slawische Mythologie) P. 1880; R.
Swierzbinski, Wiara Slowian ich byt domowy i spoleczny (Der Glaube der Sla-
wen, seine Existenz in der hauslichen Gemeinschaft und in der Gesellschaft)
W. 1884; W. Boguslawski, Dzieje slowianszczyzny poln-zach. do polowy XIII w.
(Die Geschichte des Nord-westlichen Slawentum bis zur Mitte des 13. Jhd.) 3.
Bde, P. 1887-1892.

26) Vgl. J. Lelewel, Edda, to jest ksiqga religii dawnych Skandynawii miesz-
kancow (Die Edda, das ist das Buch der Religion der alten skandinavischen Be-
volkerung) Wil. 1807.

27) Vgl. I. Domeyko, Pamiqtniki 1831-1838 (Tagebuch 1831-1838) Hrsg. von
Prof, auf dem Universitat Santiago de Chile. Verfasser der Autazania i sus
habitantes, Santiago de Chile 1845 (iibers. deutsch, franz., engl., poln.) und
J. Tretiak, Bd. 1, K. 1908.

28) A. B. Chodzko Professor fiir slawische Literatur im College de France
(Paris), verfaBte die Legendes slaves du moyen-age (Paris, 1858) und Les
Khoragan et son heros populaire (Paris, 1852) ; iiber ihn siehe: J. Reychman,
A. Chodzko wielki orientalista polski, Problemy (1956) 5.

29) Vgl. z.B., W. W?zyk, Wyjqtki z podrozy po Egipcie odbytej w roku 1839
przez... (Ausziige aus der Reise nach Agypten im Jahre 1839 von...), Biblioteka
Warszawska, Bde 1-2 (1841); W. Malachowski, Wspomnienia z podrozy do
Indii Wsch. w latach 1829-30 i 1831 odbytej (Erinnerungen an die Reise nach
Ost-Indien in den Jahren 1829-30 und 1831), Handschr. der Universitats-Biblio-
thek Warschau Sign. Nr. 9708; I. 2 agiell, Podroz historyezna po Abisynii, Aden,

Religionswissenschaft in Polen

Diese Vorstufe wissenschaftlicher Religions forschung tragt den
Charakter einer Forschung, die sich eher mit dem aufieren Erschei-
nungsbild des religiosen Lebens bestimmter religioser Gruppen be
schaftigt 30 ).

In der zweiten Halfte des 19. Jahrhunderts, als in Europa der
Evolutionismus in seiner Bliite stand, bildete sich in Polen die Reli¬
gionswissenschaft in der gegenwartigen Form heraus. Zunachst begann
sie mit einer Vertiefung der bisherigen Forschung. Die neue Betrach-
tungsweise der Religion nahm ihren Anfang mit den Schriften des
bekannten Historikers, Musik- und Sprachwissenschaftiers Jan Kar-
fowicz (1836-1903) 31 ) und den Arbeiten eines der polnischen Pioniere
auf dem Gebiet der Soziologie, Ludwik Krzywicki (1859-1941) 32 ),
die das Interesse fiir Religion von soziologischen Aspekten her for-
derten.

Jan A. Karlowicz war einer der ersten polnischen Gelehrten, die in
Polen die evolutionistische Kulturtheorie vorantrieben. In seinen reli-
gionswissenschaftlichen Forschungen legte er den Schwerpunkt auf die
Mythologie, die er als „Philosophie der Urmenschen” bezeichnet hat.

Szoa, Nubii u zrodel Nilu, z opisanient jego wodospadu oraz po krajach podrowni-
kowych do Mekii i Medyny, do Syrii i Palestyny, Konstantynopola i po Archi-
pelagu (Historische Reise nach Abessinien, Aden, Schoa, Nubien und in das
Quellgebiet des Nil mit einer Beschreibung seiner Wasserfalle, in die aquato-
rialen Lander, nach Mekka und Medina, nach Syrien und Palastina, Konstan-
tinopel und durch den Archipel) Wil. 1884; S. Korzelinski, Opis podrozy do
Australii i pobytu tamze od 1852-1856 (Beschreibung einer Reise nach Australien
und des Aufenthaltes in diesem Lande von 1852-1856) W. 1853; W. Skibniewski,
Wycieczka do Nubii (Exkursion nach Nubien) Petersburg, 1890.

30) Vgl. R. Zawilinski, „0 sposobie gromadzenia materialow etnograficznych”
(fiber die Sammelmethode ethnographischen Materials) in, Wisla 1 (1887) S.
3-8, 43-48, 83-86, 123-127.

31) Vgl. z.B. J. Karlowicz, Najnowsze badania podari i ich zbiory (Moderne
Forschung iiber Sagen und ihre Sammlungen) in Ateneum (1883) Bibliographi-
sches und biographisches Material vgl.: O. Gajek, Jan Karlowicz i Ludwik
Krzywicki jako reprezentanci dwoch nurtow w etnologii polskiej (J. K. und
L. K. als Reprasentanten zweier Tendenzen in der polnischen Ethnologie)
Wr. 1959.

32) Vgl. L. Krzywicki, Ludy. Zarys antropologii etnicznej (Die Volker.
AbriB der ethnischen Anthropologie) W. 1893; Ders., Primitive Society. Its
Vital Statistics, W.-P.-London, 1934; Uber sein Leben und Werk siehe: (Sam-
melband) Ludwik Krzywicki, praca zbiorowa poswiecona jego zyciu i tworczosci,
W. 1938, Bibliographic S. 253-306; I. Krzywicka, Zywot uczonego, Ludwik
Krzywicki, W. 1951. Im Jahre 1955 initiierte das „Philosophische Komittee der
Polnischen Akademie der Wissenschaften” die Herausgabe der gesammelten Werke
von L. Krzywicki.

5 ^

Piotr O. Szolc

Sein Denken ist verbunden mit Taylor und Comte, deren Arbeiten die
Methodologie seiner Forschungen beinhalten 33 ).

Der zweite, L. Krzywicki, gehort zu diesen vielseitigen Wissen-
schaftlem, die sich mit Religionsgeschichte, Soziologie, Okonomie,
Psychologie und Ethnologie beschaftigten. Seine Ansichten iiber Reli¬
gion sind vor allem praeformiert durch die Einfliisse von Taylor, Lub¬
bock, Spencer, Frazer, Lang, Marett, Morgan und Lipert; die er in
marxistischem Sinne interpretiert hat 34 ). Die religionswissenschaft-
liche Problematik in seinen Arbeiten betrifft die Fragen der Ent-
stehung der Religion, die wir im Totemismus, Animismus und der Magie
erblicken; femer die gegenwartige Religion, soziale Quellen und die
soziale Funktion der Religion sowie ihre Entwicklungs- und Zerfalls-
prozesse. AuBerst interessant und originell sind seine Untersuchungen
iiber soziologische Typen in der sozialen Umwelt der Stadt und des
Dorfes (Studien iiber polnischen Katholizismus).

Diese besondere Entwicklung verschiedener Arten von Religions-
wissenschaft laBt ein ausgedehntes Interesse an diesen Forschungen
entstehen, das sich in der Neugriindung von einigen Zeitschriften aus-
driickt: „Wista” (Weichsel) 1887, „Lud” (Volk) 1895, „Zbior Wia-
domosci do Antropologii Krajowej” (Gesammelte Nachrichten zur
Landanthropologie) 1877, und „Materiafy antropologiczno-archeolo-
giczne i etnograficzne” (Anthropologisch-archaologische und ethnogra-
fische Materialien) 1896, die eine groBe Anzahl von religionswissen-
schaftlichen Artikeln publizierten.

Die geschichtlichen Ereignisse zogen die Verbannung politisch tatiger
Polen nach Sibirien 35 ) nach sich, wo sie unter anderem bedeutende
Forschungen iiber den Schamanismus 36 ) verschiedener sibirischer
Vdlker anstellten. An dieser Stelle ist es wichtig, zu bemerken, daB diese
Forschungen von polnischer Seite aus in eine groBere Offentlichkeit
getragen wurden, und zwar durch ein Referat ihres bedeutendsten Re-

33) Vgl. O. Gajek, und S. Urbanczyk, in Polski Siownik Biograficzny
(= PSB ) Bd 12/1 Fasc. 52 (Kariowicz) mit Bibliographic.

34) Vgl. St. Ossowski, Sociologie des religions en Pologne, in Archives de
Sociologie des Religions, 2 (1957); T. Kowalik, L. Krzywicki, W. 1965.

35 ) Vgl. M. Janik, Dzieje Polakow na Syberii (Geschichte der Polen in Sibi¬
rien) K. 1928.

36) Die bedeutendste Arbeit in diesem Bereich stammt von M. Eliade, Le
Chamanisme , Paris 1951 (deutsch: Schamanismus und archaische Ekstasentechnik,
Stuttgart 1954) die in vielen Hinsichten von polnischen Quellen uber dieses
Forschungsgebiet ausgeht, z.B. S. 208 ££.

Religionswissenschaft in Polen

prasentanten, Waclaw Sieroszewski (1858-1945) 37 ) unter dem Titel
„Du chamanisme d’apres les croyances des Jakoutes”, das auf dem
ersten internationalem KongreB fur Religionsgeschichte in Paris (1900)
vom Sekretar dieses Kongresses, L. Marillier, vorgetragen wurde 38 ).
Gleichzeitig mit W. Sieroszewski muB man M. Witaszewski (1857-
1918) 39 ) und B. Pitsudski (1866-1918) 40 ) nennen, doch waren diese
beiden nicht die einzigen, die als Verbannte in Sibirien 4 !) geforscht
haben. Auch noch in spateren Jahren stelite Siberien eine Art Zentrum
polnischer Wissenschaft dar. Von den bedeutenden Wissenschaftlern
dieser Zeit sind vor allem zu erwahnen A. B. Dobrowolski (1872-
1954) 42 ), der mehr als Polarforscher bekannt wurde, M. A. Czaplicka

37) Seine Friihwerke wurden in russischer Sprache in vielen Fachzeitschriften
publiziert. Die wichtigsten sind: Dwadziescia lat w kraju Jakutow (Zwanzig
Jahre im Jakutenland) Bde 1-2, W. 1935 (1961, 3. Aufl.) ; The Yakuts,
Abridged from the Russian of Sieroshevski by W. G. Summer (revised and
completed by W. Sieroshevski), The Journal of the Anthropological Institute
(= JAI) 31 (1901). Eine Gesamtausgabe seiner Werke in 25. Bden ist in War-
schau (1935) erschienen. tlber ihn siehe: St. Katuzynski. „Edward Piekarski et
Waclaw Sieroszewski comme chercheurs des croyances des Yakoutes (pol.) J ’,
Euh. 8 (1964) 3, S. 34-37.

38) RHR 46 (1902) S. 204-235, 299-338.

39) Seine Schriften (siehe W. Dmitriewa, „Rukopisnyje matierialy N. A.
Witaschewskowo”, in Kratkije soobschtschenija Instit. Wostokowiedienija 16 (1955)
S. 72-79) wurden in russischen Zeitschriften veroffentlicht und konzentrierten
sich auf den Schamanismus bei den Jakuten. Am Rande ist noch zu bemerken,
daB Eliade ( Schamanismus , S. 221, 225) seinen Namen in der englischen
Transkription fur die russische Schreibweise anfiihrt, also nicht „Vitashevskij”,
sondern Witaszewski. Zu Witaszewski siehe: W. Armon, in: Etnografia Polska
( = E.P.) 4 (1961) S. 141-152.

40) Er forschte in Sibirien so wie auch bei den Ajnen auf Hokkaido {Mate¬
rials for the Study of the Ainu Language and Folklore , 1912) und auf Sachalin
(Das Barenfest der Ajnen auf Sachalin, in Globus 96 (1909) 3; Der Schamanis¬
mus bei den Ainu-Stamen von Sachalin, in Globus 96 (1909) 5). t)ber sein Leben
und Werk siehe: W. Kotwicz, in Rocznik Orientalistyczny { — RO) 12 (1936)
S. 159-167.

41) Von anderen nach Sibirien Verbannten verdienen Aufmerksamkeit: Ed¬
ward Piekarski (1858-1934) (dazu siehe: N. Poppe, Eduard Piekarski. in Unga-
rische Jahrbiicher, 7 (1927); W. Kotwicz, E.P...., RO 10 (1934) ; St Kaluzynsld,
a.a.O., S. 28-34) tmd Benedykt Dybowski (1833-1930) (dazu siehe: J. Doma-
niewski, B.D...., W. 1954) bekannt durch seine Forschung auf Kamtschatka.

42) A. B. Dobrowolski hat sich mit Religion in enger Verbindung mit philo-
sophischer Anthropologie beschaftigt, vgl. dazu z.B.: Charakterystyka i ocena
magionistyki jako drogi poznania (Charakteristik und Bewertung der Magioni-
stik als Weg der Erkenntnis), Euh. 1 (1957) i, S. 11-17. Ober ihn siehe:

Piotr 0. Szolc

(1886-1921) 43 ), die spater als Ethnologin an englischen Universitaten
(Oxford, London, Bristol) tatig war und sich durch ihre Mitarbeit bei
der Encycl. of Religion and Ethic 44 ) einen Ruf erwarb, und St. Ponia-
towski (1884-1944) 45 ), der als Professor der Anthropologie und Eth-
nologie an der staatlichen Uni vers itat Warschau und der Freien Uni-
versitat (Wolna Wszechnica), ebenfalls in Warschau, lehrte. Im Jahre
1914 war er Mitglied einer wissenschaftlichen Expedition im Amur-
gebiet 46 ). In seinen ethnologisch-religionswissenschaftlichen Arbeiten
reprasentiert er die Richtung der kulturhistorischen Schule.

Die Entwicklung der religionsethnischen Forschungen zog eine Ver-
lagerung auf Untersuchungen iiber die soziale Funktion der Religion
in Gesellschaften der Fremdvolkerkulturen nach sich, was am ehesten
seinen Ausdruck in den Werken des Griinders des Funktionalismus,
Bronislaw Malinowski (1884-1942) 47 ), fand, dessen Hauptarbeiten
in englischer Sprache erschienen 48 ) und deshalb ziemlich bekannt
geworden sind. In Deutschland arbeitete Jan Czekanowski (1882-

J. Ostrowski, Euh. 1 (1957) 1, S. 9f; E. Sajdak-Michnikowska, Euh. 4 (i960) 1,
S. 97-108.

43) Zu Leben und Werk siehe in: K. Dobrowolski, PSB Bd. 4 (1938) S. 173;
W. Koppers, Anthropos 27 (1932) S. 518. Ihre Hauptwerke: Aboriginal Siberia ,
Oxford 1914; My Syberian Year, London 1916; The Turks of Central Asia,
Oxford 1918.

44) Vgl. Samoyed, Bd, 11, S. 172-177; Siberia, Bd. 11, S. 488-496; Slavs,
Bd. 11, S. 587-595; Tungus, Bd. 12, S. 473-483; Yakut, Bd. 12 S. 826-829.

45) Seine Forschungen konzentrierten sich auf Untersuchungen iiber die
Funktion des Ritus (z.B. vgl., Przyczynek do badania izolacji obrzedowej (Ab-
handlung zur Forschung iiber die Ritusisolation) W. 1921) und seine Rolle in der
Volkskultur (vgl. z.B., Przyczynek do genezy pierscienia (Abhandlung zur
Genese des Rings), Lud 23 (1924) S. 32-37). Uber sein Leben und Werk siehe:
E. Bulanda, Rocz. W.T.N. 31-38 (1938-1945) S. 235-237; J. Krajewska, Euh.
3 (1959) 6, S. 642-54-

46) Vgl. St. Poniatowski, Materials to the Vocabulary of the Amur God,
Bibliotheca Universitatis Polonae, 1923, Fasc. 10.

47) Die Bedeutung B. Malinowski’s und sein Beitrag zur weltlichen Religions-
wissenschaft diirfte allgemein bekannt sein und bedarf an dieser Stelle keiner
besonderen Erorterung. Es ist hier zu bemerken, dafi er schon in seinen polni-
schen Publikationen Fundamente zum Funktionalismus gelegt hat; Totemizm
i egzogamia, Lud 17 (1911) S. 31-56; 18 (1912) S. 14 - 57 ; 19 (1913) S. I 53 -I 7 U
Wierzenia pierwotne i formy ustroju pierwotnego (Urtiimliche Glaubensformen
und Formen des urtiimlichen Systems) K. 1914; Przedmowa (Vorwort) in
Fross, Koczownictwo (Nomadentum) 1936.

48) Siehe z.B. Ph. M. Kaberry, Einleitung in B. Malinowski, Dynamik des
Kulturwandels, Zurich 1951, S. 5-19 und da zitierte Literatur.

Religionswissenschaft in Polen

196^) 49 ), bekannt als Anthropologe und Ethnologe, der im Nil-
Kongo-Zwischengebiet forschte.

Neben den schon erwahnten fanden sich in Polen noch weitere
Forscher, sowohl laizistische wie auch katholische, die sich mit Reli-
gionssoziologie 50 ) beschaftigten. Als der fiihrende unter ihnen ist
Stefan Czarnowski (1879-1937) 51 ) zu erwahnen; er ging von der
E. Durkheim- und H. Hubert- Schule aus; in diesem Bereich ist auch
seine bekannte Arbeit fiber den hi. Patrick 52 ) entstanden. Er war
an der Universitat Warschau Professor fur Soziologie, und als erster
Professor in Polen hatte er an der Freien Universitat (Wolna Wszech-
nica) in Warschau einen Lehrstuhl fur Religionswissenschaft 53 ) inne.
In seinen Arbeiten prazisiert er den Begriff der ^eligiomskultur”
auf der Grundlage seiner Untersuchungen uber die christliche Kultur
des mittelalterlichen Irlands und den polnischen Katholizismus, und for-
mulierte die These, daB ,,Religionskultur nicht identisch sei mit dem
religiosen Bekenntnis einer Glaubensgemeinschaft, sondern vielmehr
das System von Riten und Kulturformen meine, dessen sich die
jeweilige Glaubensgemeinschaft bedient, und die sie den materiellen und
geistigen Lebensumstanden gemaB den verschiedenen sozialen Schich-
ten anpaBt.”

AuBer S. Czarnowski beschaftigten sich eine Reihe andere Soziolo-

49) Vgl. J. Czekanowski, Forsckungen im Nil-Kongo-Zwischengebiet, Leipzig
1911-1927; Ders., Wst?p do historii Slowian (Einfiihrung in die Geschichte der
Slawen) W. 1957.

Von polnischen Forschern hat auch R. Stopa (Z badah nad ludnosciq i kulturq
Afryki poludniowo-zachodniej (t)ber die Bevolkerung und Kultur Siid-West-
Afrikas, W. 1938, siehe auch Ders. Structure of Bushman, Wr. 1970) uber afrika-
nische Religionen gearbeitet.

50) St. Ossowski, Sociologie... a.a.O.; T. Abel, Sociology in Postwar Po¬
land, American Sociological Review (= ASR) 15 (1950) S. icnff-', F. Znaf-
niecki, Polish Sociolog}^ in G. Gurvitch und W. E. Moore (Hrsg) Twentieth
Century Sociology, New York 1945, S. 703 ff.; St. Bystron, Socjologia. WstfP
informacyjny i bibliograficzny. W. 1947; siehe auch Z. A. Jordan, Marxistischer
Revisionismus in Polen, in Marxismusstudicn 8 (1968) S. 86-95.

51) Im Jahre 1956 sind seine Gesammelten Werke publiziert worden ( Dziela ,
5.Bde (Hrsg. N. Assorodobraj) W. 1956).

52) Vgl. Le culte des her os et ses conditions sociales: saint Patrick, her os
national de ITrlande , Paris 1919, S.XCIV, 369.

53) In der polnischen Sprache verwendet man fur den Begriff „Religions-
wissenschaft” zwei Begriffe: „Religionistyka ,, und „Religioznawstwo”. Der
erster wurde \or allem in der Zeit vor dem zweiten Weltkrieg benutzt, wahrend
der zweite in der heutigen Literatur vorherrscht.

Piotr O. Szolc

gen mit Religion, so vor allem Florian Znaniecki (1882-1958) 54 ), Pro¬
fessor an polnischen und amerikanischen Universitaten, J. St. Bystron
(1892-1964) 55 ), Soziologe und Ethnologe, der in Jahre 1923 auf dem
KongreB fur Religionsgeschichte in Paris teilnahm, wo er einen Vor-
trag iiber die Agrarsitten und den Ur sprung des Agrarkults bei den
Slawen hielt 56 ); auBerdem K. Dobrowolski (geb. 1894) 57 ) und
katholische Geistliche 58 ), die sich intensiv mit soziologischen Analysen
auseinandersetzten was sich fur die praktische Theologie als einen
auBerst niitzlichen Forschungsbereich erwies.

Neben der Religionssoziologie bildeten sich sehr friih religions-
psychologische Forschungen 59 ) heraus, die von E. Abramowski (1868-
1918) 60 ), der in seinen Arbeiten von psychologischen Experimenten
ausgeht und die Theorie der Kryptomnasie als Genese religiosen und
asthetischen Empfindens vertrat, und J. Wf. Dawid (1859-1914 61 ),

54) F. Znaniecki Professor fiir Soziologie an der Universitat Poznan (1920-
1939) und Columbia (1931-1933) und an anderen amerikanischen Universitaten, ist
der Begriinder des Polnischen Instituts fiir Soziologie (Polski Instytut Socjolo-
giczny) und seines Organs Polski Przeglqd Socjologiczny. Auf dem Gebiet der
Religionssoziologie ist er durch seine griindlichen Forschungen und Klassifika-
tionen iiber die Religiositat der Bauem bekannt geworden [The Polish Peasant
in Euro pa and Amerika (1918-1920) ; Cultural Reality (1919)].

55) Professor fiir Ethnologie [Poznan (1919), Krakow (1923)] und Soziologie
[Warszawa (1924)] geht in seinen Arbeiten von der Generalthese aus, dafi es
„keine Geschichte der Kultur ohne eine Geschichte der Religion gibt”. Seine For-
schung betrifft hauptsachlich die Religiositat in der Volkskultur. fiber sein Leben
und Werk siehe: K. Judenko, Euh. 6 (1962) 2, S. 23-35 (S. 36: Bibliographic).

56) AuBerdem haben noch S. Czarnowski und T. Zielinski daran teilgenommen.
Vgl. J. St. Bystron, V Mi^dzynarodowy Zjazd Historykow Religii, Lud 22

(*917)-

57 ) Vgl. Dzieje kultu sw. Floriana do polowy XVI w. (Geschichte des Hl.-
Florian-Kults bis zur Mitte des 16. Jhds) W. 1923.

58) Vgl. z.B., F. Mirek, Elementy spoleczne parafii rzymsko-katholickiej. Wstgp
do socjologii parafii (Soziale Elemente in der rom.-kath. Gemeinde. Einfiihrung
in die Soziologie der Gemeinde) P. 1928.

59) Einer der ersten, die die Aufmerksamkeit auf die Religionspsychologie
richtete, war J. Ochorowicz (1830-1913), der Verfasser des Buches: Bezwiedne
tradycje ludzkosci (UnbewuBte Traditionen der Menschheit) W. 1898.

60) Vgl. Czucia rodzajowe jako pierwiastek estetyki i mistycyzntu (Geschlechts-
gefiihle als Elemente der Asthetik und Mistik) 1911; Modlitwa jako zjawisko
kryptomnezji (Das Gebet als Erscheinungsweise der Kryptomnasie) Pzeg. Fil.
1912 S. 348 ff; Psychologia modliwy (Die Gebetspsychologie) Mysl Wolna 2
(1923) 4, 5. fiber ihn siehe: J. Szmyd, Rocznik Wolnej Mysli (1961).

61) t)ber sein Leben und Werk siehe: J. Szmyd, Euh. 10 (1966) 3/4, S. 121-132;
Ders., Euh. 12 (1968) 1, S. 57-72; T. Pasierbinski, Kwartalnik Pedagogiczny 5
(i960) 17 (3).

Religionswissenschaft in Polen

der im Grunde genommen als erster diese religionswissenschaftliche
Disziplin in seiner „Psychologie der Religion” 62 ) systematise!! aus-
formulierte, initiiert wurden. Die Aufgabe der Religionspsychologie
sieht er in einer griindlichen Beschreibung dessen, was im religios
lebenden Menschen vor sich geht, und in einer Erklarung der wechsel-
seitigen Beziige von religiosen, physiologischen und umweltbedingten
Umstanden 63 ). In seinen Arbeiten bemerkt man die Einfliisse von
W. James (Problem des Mystizismus), Wundt, Binet und Galton und
sogar von Schleiermacher, dies besonders deshalb, weil er bei seiner
Polemik gegen die Leub’ sche 64 ) These betont, daB nicht alle religiosen
Umstande fur psychologische Forschungsmethoden faBbar sind und
daB „fur das Verstandnis religioser Fakten eine geistige Gemeinschaft
und ein unmittelbares Verstandnis fur die Sache selbst unabdingbar
sind.” 65 )

Die psychologische Forschung hat vor allem Wtadyslaw Witwicki
(1878-1948) 66 ), einer der hervorragenden Platokenner und Uber-
setzer ins Polnische, im iibrigen ein vielseitig begabter Gelehrter 67 ),
der unter anderem das Werk von W. James in polnischer Sprache
herausgegeben hat. Auf dem Gebiet der Religionspsychologie sind seine
Forschungen iiber die Struktur religiosen Gefiihls der Intelligenz 68)
am meisten bekannt geworden; in ihnen unterscheidet er den Uberzeu-
gungslauben vom Suppositionsglauben (seine Forschungen beruhen
auf einer Analyse des katholischen Glaubens als des in Polen dominie-
renden). Daneben ist S. Blachowski (1899-1962) 69 ) zu erwahnen,

62) Psychologia religii, W. 1933 (Posthume Auflage der Vorlesungen von
1913, veroffentlicht in: Krytyka 40 (1913).

63) Krytyka , a.a.O., S. 22 f.

64) Vgl. J. H. Leuba, A Psychological Study of Religions, its Origin, Funktion
and Future ?, New York 1912, S. 275.

65) J- W. Dawid, Psychologia ... a.a.O., S. 40.

66) t)ber ihn siehe: J. Szmyd, Euh. (1963) 1, S. 40-54; 7 (1963) 2, S. 24-36.

67) In seinem umfangreichen NachlaB finden sich nicht nur zahlreiche Arbeiten
iiber Psychologie, sondern auch iiber Padagogik, Kunstgeschichte (er selbst war
auch Graphiker und Maler) wie auch eine Ubersetzung des Matthaus-Evangeliums
(Dobra Nowina, W. 1958).

68) La foi des eclaires, Paris 1939.

69) Vgl. The Magical Behaviour of Children in Relation to School, The
A meric. Jour, of Psych. 50 (1937) S. 347'36 i ; Ders., Good Luck Letters . A Con¬
tribution to the Psychology of Magical Thinking in Kwart. Psych. 11 (1939).
t)ber sein Leben und Werk siehe: B. Homowski, Przeglqd Psychologiczny, 6
(i 03 ) ; J- Szmyd, Euh. 5 (1961) 4, S. 28-37.

Piotr 0. Szolc

der durch seine Forschungen iiber die Mechanismen religioser Psy¬
chosen bekannt ist; gemeinsame Arbeiten entstanden auch mit S. Boro-
wiecki iiber die Erzeugung von ekstatischen Zustanden und Sinnes-
tauschungen.

Als Hilfwissenschaft haben auch katholische Gelehrte Religions-
psychologie getrieben, teils im thomistischen Sinne 70 ), teils unter
Benutzung experimenteller oder psychoanalitischer Methoden 71 ). Zu
den Vertretem der experimentellen Methode sind unter anderem Geist-
liche wie E. Jetowiecki 72 ), L. Skibniewski 73 ), H. Kazimierowicz 74 )
zu zahlen sowie J. Pastuszka 75 ) der bis heute der beriihmteste Repra-
sentant dieser religionswissenschaftlichen Richtung in Polen ist. Na-
tiirlich muft an dieser Stelle bemerkt werden, daB die Religionspsy-
chologie, mit der man sich in katholischen Kreisen beschaftigte, mehr
zur Theologie der Seelsorge als zur Religionswissenschaft gehort.

An der Grenze zwischen Religionssoziologie und Religionspsycho-
logie ist die sogenannte soziale Psychologie der Religion 76 ) entstanden,
die sich sowohl mit dem religiosen Individuum als auch mit der
religiosen Gruppe beschaftigt.

Samtliche aufgezeigten religionswissenschaftlichen Disziplinen, be-
sonders die Religionsethnologie, fanden ihren Ausdruck in der ver-
gleichenden Religionswissenschaft 77 ) (genauer: in der allgemeinen

70) Vgl. z.B., K. Wais, in Przeglqd Teologiczny (= Prz. Teol.) 10 (1929)
S. 7-9; P. Siwek, Metody badah zjawisk nadprzyrodzonych (Methoden der For-
schung iiber iibernatiirliche Erscheinungen) K. 1933.

71) Vgl. K. Kucharski, Zmysly i ich rola w religii katholickiej (Die Sinne und
ihre Funktion in der katholischen Religion) Wil. 1937; S. Wuet, Psychoanaliza
a sakrament pokuty (Psychoanalyse und das Sakrament der BuBe) Wloclawek
1937; J- Piskorz, Wicvra parafiam (Der Glaube der Gemeinde) Tarnow 1936.

72) Vgl. z.B., U progu wspolczesnej psychologii religii (An der Schwelle der
modernen Religionspsychologie) K. 1930.

73) Vgl. z.B., Psychologiczna diagnoza powolania kaplanskiego (Psychologische
Diagnostik der Kaplansberufung) L. 1934.

74) Vgl. z.B., „Psychoanaliza w konfesjonale” (Psychoanalyse im Beichtstuhl),
Przeglqd Katolicki (Warszawa) 1932, Nr. 30/34.

75) Vgl. z.B., Filozofia religii Bergsona, W. 1936; Ders., Psychologist indy-
widualna, Lub. 1938.

76) Vgl. S. Nalkowski, 0 wspolczesnej formacji religijnej w Polsce (Gber die
gegenwartige Religionsformation in Polen) W. 1918; P. Hulka-Laskowski,
Polska wierzqca (Das glaubige Polen) W. 1929.

77) Als erster hat in Polen J. Archutowski [Porownawcza historia religii”
(Vergleichende Religionsgeschichte), Ateneum Kaplahskie (= At. Kap.) 9 (1913)
S. 109-122] den Begriff der ,,vergleichenden Religionswissenschaft” gepragt.

Religionswissenschaft in Polen

Religionsgeschichte), mit der sich eine Reihe von Gelehrten aus den
verschiedensten Fachbereichen, von der Theologie iiber Geschichte,
Philologie, Ethnologie bis zu der tatsachlichen Religionswissen¬
schaft, beschaftigt hat. Ignacy Radlinski (1834-1920) 78 ), der Philo¬
logie und Orientalistik studierte wird heute als der Vater der polni-
schen Religionswissenschaft angesehen. Auch Andrzej Niemojewski
(1864-1921) 79 ), ein Vertreter der mythologischen Schule in Polen 80 ),
wird zu den bekanntesten Religionswissenschaftler gezahlt.

I. Radlinski, der 1882 mit einem Aufsatz unter dem Titel „Erstes
Blatt der Religionsgeschichte” 81 ) debiitierte, stand unter dem starken
Einfluft des Evolutionismus und reprasentierte eine aufterst antikleri-
kale Meinung 82 ). Er beschaftigte sich mit Studien iiber das Christen-
tum 83 ), besonders im Rahmen einer philologischen Analyse, die lei der
im Hinblick auf andere zu seiner Zeit erscheinende philologische Ar-
beiten schon veraltet war. In Polen wurde er beriihmt durch die Popu-
larisierung des Werkes von E. Renan, von welchem seine Schriften
beeinfluftt sind.

A. Niemojewski, ein vielseitig begabter Denker, anfangs Poet und
Schriftsteller, spater Aktivist auf politischer und sozialer Ebene,
Griinder der Zeitschrift „Mysl Niepodlegla” (Der unabhangige Ge-
danke) und Ubersetzer von Josephus Flavius und E. Renan, konzen-

78) fiber sein Leben und seine Bedeutung fur die polnische Religionswissen¬
schaft siehe: Cz. Lechicki, Euh. 2 (1958) S. 39-48.

79) Zu seiner Biographie und Bibliographic siehe: Z. Poniatowski, in: A. Nie¬
mojewski, Biblia a gwiazdy (Bibel und Sterne) W. 1959 (2. Aufl.) S. 7-13;
H. Chylinski, Einfiihrung in A. Niemojewski, Bog czy czlowiek (Gott odier
Mensch) W. i960, S. 5-26.

80) A. Niemojewski, Gott Jesus im Lichte fremder und eigener Forschungen,
Miinchen 1910.

81) Vgl. in Ognisko (Festschrift fur T. T. Jez) 1882; er hat jedoch schon
1880 hebraische Literatur in: Dzieje literatury powszechnej (Allgemeine Literatur-
Geschichte) (Hrsg. Chmielowski), bearbeitet.

82) Vgl. Katolicyzm, modernizm i my si wolna (Katholizismus, Modernismus
und freies Denken) W. 1912; An dieser Stelle ist zu bemerken, daB der Katho¬
lizismus in dieser Zeit gegen den Evolutionismus Stellung bezog (siehe dazu:
Z. Radziwolski, L’eglise catholique de Pologne et l'evolutionisme (pol.), Euh.
13 (1969) 1/2, S. 155-168.

83) Vgl. Apokryfy judaistyczno-chrzescijahskie, W. 1905; Ders., Dzieje Jedy-
nego Boga (Geschichte des einen Gottes) W. 1905; Ders., Dzieje jednego z synow
Bozych (Die Geschichte eines der Sohne Gottes) W. 1907; Ders., Dzieje trzech
osob w jednym Bogu (Die Geschichte der drei Personen in einem Gott) W 1915
(1. Teil); Ders., Jezus, Pawel, Spinoza, rzecz historyczno-spoleczna (Jezus, Paulus,
Spinoza — historisch-soziale Betrachtungen) W. 1912.

Piotr O. Szolc

trierte sich in seiner religions'wissenschaftlichen Forschung auf Pro-
bleme der Entstehung des Christentums im Sinne der Astralmythologie
(Einfliisse von Friedrich Delitzsch) 84 ), der in Polen nach dem II.
Weltkrieg von seinem Schuler A. Czubrynski (1885-1960) 85 ) ver-
treten wurde.

Von sehr grower Bedeutung fur die Forschung iiber Religionen waren
auch Altertumsforscher 86 ) , Historiker, Archaologen und Philologen,
von welchen Tadeusz Zielinski (1859-1944) 87 ) und Ryszard Gan-
siniec (Ganszyniec) (1888-1958 88 ) groftere Aufmerksamkeit verdienen.

T. Zielinski, Professor an der Universitat Petersburg (1887-1920)
und Warschau (1920-1934), einer der beriihmtesten Kenner der
Antike in seiner Zeit 89 ), forschte iiber das Christentum im Geiste
des Panhellenismus; er hielt die christliche Religion fiir die Fortset-
zung der griechisch-romischen Glaubensformen. Sein Werk umfaftt
900 90 ) wissenschaftliche Veroffentlichungen, und zwar in deutscher,

84) Vgl. A. Niemojewski, Objasnienie katechizmu (Kommentar zum Kathe-
chismus) W. 1911; Ders., Tajemnica astrologii chrzescijahskiej (Die Geheimnisse
der christlichen Astrologie) W. 1913; Ders., Horoskopy swiqte przypowiesci
ewangelicznych (Heilige Horoskope der evangelischen Gleichnisse) W. 1917;
Ders. Biblia ... a.a.O., W. 1924.

85) Vgl. z.B., A. Czubrynski, Astralistyczna krytyka tekstow Nowego Testa¬
ments, Euh. 2 (1958) 2, S. 35-38. tlber sein Leben und Werk siehe: Z. Ponia-
towski, Euh. 5 (1961) 2, S. nof.

86) Vgl. z.B., R. Gostkowski, Kaplam i kaplanki w sztuce kretehskomykehskiej
i greckiej (Priester und Priesiterinnen in der kretisch-mykenischen und griechi-
schen Kunst) Wil. 1936; St. Przeworski, Notes d’archeol. syrienne et hittite,
in Syria 17 (1936) S. 32-44; Ders., Prahistorische Felsenzeichnungen aus Vorder-
asien, in Archiv Orientalm 7 (1935) S. 9-15; H. Markowski, Rozporzcidzenie
Cezara o ochronie grobow i czci pochowanych (Ein kaiserlicher Erlass iiber den
Schutz der Graber und die Ehre der Bestatteten), Eos 17 (1936) S. 43-49;
A. Chodzko-Domaniewska, Czy Minerwa nie byla samoistnym bostwem (Ob
Minerva eine selbstaudige Gottheit war?) Eos 17 (1936) S. 295-307.

87) t)ber ihn siehe: A. Rehm, Jb. der Bayer. Akademie der Wiss. 1944-1948
(1948); H. Daumling, Gnomon 21 (1949) S. 373; St. Srebrny, Eos 27 (1947)
Fasc. 2. Zielinska-Kenokopi; Mein Vater, Tadensz Z., Palaologia I (1952)
220-233.

88) tlber sein Leben und Werk siehe: J. Lanowski, Kwartalnik Historii Nauki
i Techniki (= KHNiT ) 3 (1958) 4, S. 629-637; Cz. Lechicki, Euh. 2 (1958) 1,
S. 3-7; K. Majewski, Archeologia 9 (1957) S. 206-210.

89) Einen Eindruck seiner Bedeutung vermitteln die 5 polnischen und 8 weitere
Ehrendoktortitel, die ihm vom Ausland verliehen wurden, wie auch die an ihn ver-
liehene Goethemedaille fiir Kunst und Wissenschaft.

90) Zu seiner Bibliographic siehe in: E. D^browski (Hrsg.), Religie swiata
(Die Weltreligionen) W. 1957, S. 359 ff. G. Pianko, Meander 14 (1959) 8-9,

Religionswissenschaft in Polen

franzosischer, englischer, spanischer, italienischer, russischer und
polnischer Sprache, in denen sehr haufig religionswissenschaftliche
Problematik zu finden ist.

P. Gansiniec, Professor an der Universitat Poznan (Posen), Lwow
(Lemberg), Wroclaw (Breslau) und Krakow (Krakau), konzentrierte
sich in seinen religionswissenschaftlichen Untersuchungen auf den
Ritus 91 ), den er fur das Wesen der Religion hielt, und stellte aus
diesem Grunde fur Religionshistoriker das Postulat auf, daft man sich
aus der Notwendigkeit der Sache mit Heterologie (Geschichte des
Kults) als integralem Teil der Religionswissenschaft zu beschaftigen
habe. Seine Ansichten sind deshalb auch ziemlich verwandt mit denen
Georg Thomsons (z.B. die magische Funktion des Mythos). Gansiniec's
Meinung tritt uns in seinen zahlreichen Veroffentlichungen entgegen,
besonders in den Begriffen, die er fur „Paulys Realencyclopadie der
Stichworte der classischen Altertumswissenschaft” bearbeitet hat (iiber
50) 92 ). Versucht man, seine Forschung zu charakterisieren, so stoftt
man auf Relationen zu Salomon Reinach und manchmal auch zur
E. Durkheim-Schule. Entgegen anderslautender Meinungen hat er
immer betont, daft „die Mythologie kein zutreffendes Bild von der
griechischen Religion wiedergibt” 93 ). Sein reichaltiger Nachlaft an
Schrifttum 94 ) umfaftt nicht nur vergleichende Studien fiber antike
Religionen, sondern auch Studien fiber mittelalterliche religiose For-
men und ihre Verbindung mit dem Altertum 9 ^).

S. 437-461. Eine besondere Redeutung fur die Religionswissenschaft besitzen:
Rzym i jego religia (Rom und seine Religion) (1920); Hermes Trismegistos
(1921); Chrzescijanstwo starozytne a filozofia rzymska (Das antike Christentum
und die romische Philosophie) (1921); Religia starozytnej Grecji (englisch: The
Religion of ancient Greece, Oxford-London 1926); Religia hellenizmu ; Hellenism
a judaizm; Religia Rzeczypospoliiej rsymskiej (1933-1937).

91) Vgl. z.B., Das Rationale im Glauben und Ritus, in Historisch-politische
Blatter , 1915, Ders., De magicis ritibus, Breslau 1913.

92) z.B. Adventus, Aleuromanteia, Israel, Katabasis, Kranz, Ringe, Ritus,
Sacer u.a.

93) Vgl. Kwartalnik Klasyczny 7 (1933) S. 189.

94) Vgl. seine Bibliographie in: Euh. 2 (1958) 1, S. 4 f.; fur Religionswissen¬
schaft von Bedeutung: Apollo als Heilgott, in Archiv f. Gesch. der Medzin 15
(1923) S. 33-42; Der Ursprung der Zehngebotetafeln , Berlin 1920; Stttdia do
dziejow magii (Studien zur Geschichte der Magie). 1922; „De argumentis immor-
talitaten vulgo adstruetibus particolo primo”, P. 1920.

95 ) Vgl. z.B., Pierscien w wierzeniach ludowych starozytnych i srednio-
wiecznych (Der Ring im Volksglauben des Altertums und des Mittelalters), Lud
22 (1923) S. 33-62.

Piotr 0. Szolc

Im Kreis seiner Schuler sind Arbeiten entstanden, die die Thesen
iiber den Ursprung des „Mutter-Erde-Kults” kritisierten 96 ).

Die antiken Religionen wurden auch unter ethnologischen Aspekten
erforscht, womit sich in erster Linie W. Klinger (1875-1962) be-
schaftigt hat. Seine Untersuchungen befassen sich vor allem mit
vergleichendem Material zur Volkskultur in der Antike und im Sla-
wentum 97 ) und mit den Einflussen antiker Glaubensformen auf das
Christentum 98 ).

Eine zentrale Stellung in der polnischen Religionsforschung nahm
neben den Untersuchungen iiber antike Religionen diejenige iiber den
Orient im Altertum ") und in der Gegenwart ein. Mit letzteren Pro-
blemstellungen befassen sich Orientalisten 10 °), deren Ergebnisse in
dem Werk „Religionen des Orients” 101 ) vorliegen. Mitarbeiter an
diesem Werk waren die in Polen fiihrenden Orientalisten, deren
wissenschaftliche Tatigkeit noch teilweise im heutigen Polen weiter-
gefiihrt wird. Einer der bedeutendsten war Jean Przyluski (poln. Jan

96) H. Matakiewicz, (1906-1932), Fabulae de deorum heroumque natalibus,
K. 1932; Ders., De Terra Mater a Graecis culte, in Eos 31 (1928) S. 337-364; t)ber
sie siehe: R. Gansiniec, Kwartalnik Klasyczny, 6 (1932) S. 235-240.

97) W. Klinger Professor an den Universitat Kiew (bis 1920) und Poznan, hat
z.B., Doroczne swi^ta ludowe Europy a tradycja greckorzymska (Jahrliche Volks-
feste in Europe und die griechisch-romische Tradition) 1930 verfaBt. Uber ihn
siehe: J. Krzyzanowski, Literatura Ludowa, (i960) 4/5, S. 83-86.

98) Vgl. z.B., Obrzqdowsc ludowa Bozego Narodzenia (Volksritus des Wei-
nachtsfestes) 1926.

99) Interesse fiir den Alten Orient war in Polen vorhanden, vor allem wenn
man an die Erinnerungen und Berichte von Reisen und an die Anfange der 1
polnischen Agyptologie denkt (vgl. J. Pilecki, Droga polskiego historiografa do
egiptologii. T.S. Smolenski (1184-1909) (Der Weg des polnischen Historiographen
zur Agyptologie...) in Studia i Materaly z Dziejow Nauki Polskiej , Ser. A,
Fasc. 11 (1967) S. 63-69; siehe auch dazu: G. Maspero, Annal. des Serv. de Antiq.
10 (1909) S. 91-99). Zur Geschichte der polnischer Orientalistik siehe: Szkice z
dziejow polskiej orientalistyki (Hrsg. S. Strelcyn) W. 1957.

100) Am Rande ist zu bemerken, daB in den Jahren 1937-1939 C. Regamey
(heute Professor in Fribourg) als Privat-Dozent an der Universitat Warszawa
tatig war, der sich mit Problemen der indischen Religionen beschaftigte; vgl.
Three Chapters from the Samadhirajasutra, W. 1938; The Bhadramayakaravya-
karana, Introduction, Tibetan Text, Translation and Notes , W. 1938.

101) St. Schayer (Hrsg.), Religie Wschodu, W. 1938 unter Mitwirkung: J. Przy¬
luski, Religie azjatyckie ; T. Zielinski, Elementy wschodnie w religiach swiata
antycznego (Orientalische Elemente in den Religionen der antiken Welt) ; A.
Smieszek, Religia egipska ; R. Ranoszek, Religie asyro-babilohskie i hetyckie ; St.
Schayer, Religie irahskie ; Ders., Braminizm ; Ders., Buddyzm; W. Jablonski,
Religie Chin ; Ders. Religie Japonii.

Religionswissenschaft in Polen

Przyhiski, 1885-1944) 102 ) Professor am College de France und an
der Sorbonne, ein bekannter und allgemein geschatzter Religionswissen-
schaftler, der seine Aufmerksamkeit auf Probleme der indischen Re-
ligionen 103 ) und auf die vergleichende Religionsgeschichte 104 ) rich-
tete. Neben ihm sind folgende Professoren polnischer Universitaten
zu erwahnen: St. Schayer (1899-1941) 105 ), ein hervorragender In-
dologe, der Agyptologe A. Smieszek 106 ), der Assyrologe R. Ranoszek
(geb. 1894) 107 ) und der Sinologe W. JaWonski (1901-1957) 108 ),
deren Forschungen vor allem von einer philologischen Textanalyse
ausgingen, und die manchmal zur Vertiefung Kenntnisse aus kul-
turellem Material zu Hilfe nahmen.

Die orientalische Forschung besitzt in Polen eine weit zuriick-
reichende Tradition; hier zu bemerken ist, daft der Koran schon im
19. Jahrhundert iibersetzt wurde 109 ), was auf ein besonderes Interesse,
das bis in die Zwischenkriegsperiode andauerte, fur die Beschaftigung
mit dem Islam 110 ) hinweist. Man beschrankte sich damals jedoch

102) Vgl. iiber ihn: RHR.

103) Vgl. z.B., Le Bouddhisme , Paris 1933, La Cocile de Rdjagrha. Intro¬
duction des canons des bouddhiques Paris 1928; Totemisme et vegetalisme dans
Unde, Paris 1927.

104) Vgl. z.B., „Die Mutter-Gottin als Verbindung zwischen den Lokal-Gottern
und dem Universal-Gott”, Ercmos 6 (1938) S. 35,-57.

105) St. Schayer ist der Griinder des Polish Bulletin of Oriental Studies
(1937-1939) und der modernen polnischen Orientalistik (iiber ihn siehe: A. Za-
j^czkowski, in Szkice ... a.a.O., S. 43-50), wie auch der Verfasser vieler indologi-
scher Arbeiten: Precanonical Buddhism, in Arcliiv Orientalni 7 (1935) S. 121-132;
Das mahayanistische Absolutum nach der Lehre der Madhyanikas, Orient.
Literaturzeit. 38 (1935) S. 401-415; Przyczynki do zagadnienia czasu w filozofii
Indii (Abhandlungen zum Problem der Zeit in der indischen Philosophic),
K. 1938; Siehe dazu: C. Regamey, in Christus und die Religionen der Erde, Bd. 3
(1961) S. 235-303.

106) Vgl. z.B., Notes on Egyptian Accent as Evidenced in Coptic Nouns , P. 1935 ;
Ders., Geneza podania greckiego 0 Memnonie krolu Etiopow (Die Genese der
griechischen Sage iiber Memmnon, den Konig der Athiopier) K. 1926.

107) Vgl. z.B., Kronika krola hetyckiego Thuthaljasa IV (Kronik des Hettiter-
konigs Thuthaljas IV) W. 1934.

108) Mitglied des ‘Societe Asiatique’ und American Oriental Society', Verfasser
sinologischer Schriften: Chuang (Chou) Nau-hua-cze-king (Gbersetzung und
Bearbeitung) W. 1953; Z dziejow literatury chihskiej (Aus der Geschichte der
chinesischen Literatur) W. 1956; Antologia literatury chihskiej (Hrsg.) W. 1956-.

109) von J. Murza-Buczacki, 2 Bde, W. 1858.

no) Vgl. z.B., M. Aleksandrowicz, Krotki zarys religii islamu (Kurzer AbriB
der islamischen Religion) Wil. 1937; W. Natanson, Prqdy umyslowe w islamie
(Intellektuelle Stromungen im Islam) L. 1931; D. Kiinstinger, Przeklad i objas-

Piotr 0 . Szolc

nicht nur auf den Islam, sondern man iibersetzte auch von anderen
orientalischen Religionen heilige Schriften 11 x ) und analysierte deren
Strukturen und Formen 112 ).

Unter philologischen Aspekten trieben auch Slawisten religions-
wissenschaftliche Studien, welche die im 19. Jahrhundert ausgesetzten
Untersuchungen iiber die urspriinglichen Religionen des Slawentums
wieder aufnahmen. An der Spitze dieser Untersuchungen steht ohne
Zweifel Alexander Bruckner (1855-1939) 113 ), Professor an der Uni-
versitat Berlin, der Religion als eine wesentliche Form der Kultur
betrachtete. Die von ihm behandelte Problematik des Slawentums wurde
von anderen Forschem 114 ) ubernommen, die in ihren Abhandlungen
die zahlreichen Dokumente der materiellen Kultur beriicksichtigten.

Der fiihrende unter diesen war der Sprachwissenschaftler und

nienia 43 sury Koranu (Gberzetzung und Interpretation der 43 sury des Koran),
K. 1926.

111) Vgl. z.B., O. Pietraszewski, Zend-Avesta , ou plutot Zendaschta, 3. Bde,
Berlin 1838 (poln. tlbersetzung der Zend-Avesta); S. Michalski-Iwienski, Upa-
niszady (Gbersetzung und Kommentar) W. 1924 (2. Apfl.) ; J. Bromski, Enuna
Elis , czyli opowiesc babilonska 0 powstaniu swiata (Enuna Elis, die babylonisdhe
Sage iiber die Entstehung der Welt) W. 1925; J. S. Dzierzbicki, Legendy bud-
dyjskie , W. 1927.

112) Vgl. z.B., W. M. Gielecki, Pomysiy filozoficzne w hymnach Rigwedy
(Philosophische Konzeptionen in den Rig-veda-Hymnen) K. 1911; J. Rozwadowski,
Don Tanons et les Cimmeriens, RO 2 (1919-24) S. 142-144; P. Smolik,
Wsrod wyznawcow Burchan-Buddy (Bei den Anhangern des Burchan-Budda)
K. 1925; E. Sluszkiewicz, 0 duszach, due hack, diablach i demonach indyjskich
(t)ber die indischen Seelen, Geister, Satanen und Damonen) L. 1936; A.
Gawronski, Nauka Upaniszadow (Die Lehre der Upanischaden) W. 1937; H.
Willman-Grabowska, PoRcia i wyobrazenia czasu w Wedach i Bramana
(L’idee de Tatman depuis le Rigveda jusqu’aux Brahmana), Kwartalnik Filozo-
fiezny 13 (1938) S. 1-22. Zur polnischen Indologie siehe: H. Willman-Grabowska,
in Szkice... a.a.O., S. 237-250 und die dort zitierte Literatur.

113) Er war in der Zwischenkriegsperiode einer der beriihmtesten polnisdhen
Slawisten. In seinem umfangreichen NachlaB befinden sich ca. 1500 bibliogra-
phische Positionen (siehe: W. Wislocki, Studia staropolskie, K. 1928) von denen
sich viele mit Religionsproblematik auseinandersetzen; vgl. z.B., Mitologia
siowumska (slawische Mythologie) K. 1918; Mitologia polska, W. 1924; Zur
Geschichte des Aberglaubens in Polen, in Archiv f. Slaw. Phil. 5 (1892) S. 687 ff;
6 (1893) S. 316 £; Starozytna Litwa. Ludy i bogi (Das alte Litauen Volker-
und Gotter) W. 1904.

114) Vgl. z.B., A. L. Lubicz, Mitologia slowianska pollug Naruszewicza,
Lelewela , Boguslawskiego , Bruckner a i Gruszewskiego, W. 1911; J. Klawe
Totemizm a pierwotne zjawisko religijne w Polsce. Studium porownawcze (Tote-
mismus und das urspriingliche Erscheinen von Religion in Polen. Vergleichende
Studien.) W. 1920.

Religionswissenschaft in Polen

Ethnologe Kazimierz Moszynski (1887-1959) 115 ), der Vertreter des
sogenannten kritischen Evolutionismus 116 ). In seinen religionswis-
senschaftlichen Untersuchungen widmet er die Hauptkonzentration
der Magie 117 ), der Theorie des Glaubens, Riten und aberglaubischen
Elementen im Volk 118 ).

Auch in theologischen Kreisen erschien schon 1898 eine religions-
ethnische Betrachtung altester religioser Formen 119 ). Sie bildete den
Anfang einer katholischen Religionswissenschaft 120 ). Dies beweist
eine groBe Anzahl von Publikationen, die die Konzeption des Urmo-
notheismus 121 ) popularisieren. Daneben gab es jedoch auch originelle
Autoren, die von dieser Schule nicht zo stark abhangig waren, wie z.B.
der noch heute tatige Priester F. Manthey, der eines der ersten Hand-

115) Zu seinem Leben und Werk siehe: B. Moszynska, EP 3 (i960) S. 31-40.

116) Vgl. z.B., K. Moszynski, Ewolucjonizm krytyczny na tie innych kie
runkow w etnologii (Der kritische Evolutionismus im Lichte anderer Richtungen
in der Ethnologie) Lud 38 (1948) S. 3-27.

117) Vgl. z.B., Origine de la magie et de la religion, 1926.

118) Vgl. z.B., Kultura ludowa Slowian (Die Volkskultur der Slawen) W. 1934.

119) Vgl. z.B., W. Zaborowski (1830-1900), Najstarze Indy na swiecie. Stur
dium etniczno-religijne (Die altesten Volker der Welt, ethnisch-religiose Studien)
K. 1898; Ders., PoRcia religijne Persow za Achemenidow (Religiose Begriffe
bei den Persem in der Achameniden-Zeit), Przeglqd Powszechny (Krakow)’
27 (1890) S. 49-63; 1 74 -193-

120) Vgl. z.B., I. Radziszewski (1871-1922), Geneza religi w swietle nauki i
filozofii (Die Genese der Religion im Lichte der Wissenschaft und der Philo¬
sophic), At. Kap. 7 (1911); A. Pechnik, Artikel uber unter-gegangene Reli-
gionen, in Gazeta koscielna (Kirchliche Blatter) (1916-1917); S. Szydelski,
Studia nod poczqtkami religii (Studien fiber die Enstehung der Religion) L. 1916;
Ders., Poczatki chrzescijahstwa (Der Ursprung des Christentums) W. 1911;
Ders., Eschatologia iranska a biblijna, L. 938; J. Stawarczyk, Protomandaizm a
powstanie gnozy (Protomandaismus und die Entstehung der Gnosis) L. 1935;
Ders., Zagadnienie mandajskie i proba jego rozwiqzania (Das mandaische Pro¬
blem und ein Versuch seiner Losung) W. 1935.

121) Vgl. z.B., J. Kruszynski, Studia nad porownawczq historiq religii (Studien
fiber die vergleichende Religionsgeschichte) P. 1926 E. Kosibowicz, Problem
ludow pigmejskich (Probleme der Pygmaenvolker) K. 1927; F. Konieczny,
Modlitwa u ludow pierwotnych. Studium historyczno-religijne. (Das Gebet bei
fremden Volkem) L. 1934; W. Kwiatkowski, Pierwotny monoteizm wg swia-
dectw etnologii (Der Urmonotheismus auf der Grundlage ethnologischer Zeug-
nisse) in Idee Boga, W. 1930; Ders. U kolebki chrystianizmu (An der Wiege
des Christentums) W. 1936; E. D^browski, Historia religii, W. 1918; S. Szy¬
delski, Czasy przedhistoryczne w swietle badan Morgana i W. Schmidta (Pra-
historische Zeiten im Lichte der Forschungen von Morgan und Schmidt) At. Kap.
19 (1927) S. 126-148.

Numen XVIII

Piotr O. Szolc

bucher der Religionsgeschichte 122 ) verfaBte, und weitere Priester,
deren Arbeitsgebiet die vergleichende Religionsgeschichte bildete, unter
besonderer Be rucks ichtigung der Religion Indiens und des Islams 123 ).
Auch die Exegeten haben wesentliche Bedeutung fur die Religions-
forschung, von ihnen ist der Professor an der Katholischen Universi¬
tat in Lublin (KUL) und der Jagiellonischen Universitat in Kra¬
kau (UJ) Jozef Archutowski (1879-1944) 124 ) zu erwahnen. Er
hat nicht nur in die katholische Theologie Polens als erster moderne
Methoden der Bibelexegese eingefiihrt, die von einem breiten histori-
schen Kontext ausgehen, sondern auch den Begriff der vergleichen-
den Religionswissenschaft gepragt. AuBer ihm waren noch St.
Szczepanski 125 ) u.a. katholische Wissenschaftler 126 ) tatig.

Neben diesem Kreis setzten sich jedoch ebenfalls protestantische
Theologen der Fakultat fur evangelische Theologie an der Universitat
Warschau mit Religionswissenschaft auseinander. Dort befand sich
ein Lehrstuhl fur Religionsgeschichte und Religionsphilosophie unter
der Leitung des damaligen Dozenten W. Niemczyk (geb. 1898) 127 ),

122) Vgl. F. Manthey, Historia religii w zarysie, Pelpin 1935; Ders., Magia
a religia Pelpin 1936: Ders., Powstanie duszy ludzkiej wg. wyobrazen ludow
(Die Enstehung der menschlichen Seele nach der Vorstellung der Volker),
Roczniki Teologiczno-kanoniczne (= RTK ) 3 (1957) 2.

123) Vgl. z.B., A. Taczak, Buddyzm a chrzescijanstwo (Buddhismus und Chris-
tentum) P. 1918; W. M. Dgbicki, Buddyzm i chrystianizm W. 1901; T. Radkowski,
Derwisze. Sufizm w religii Mahometa, W. 1916.

124) Vgl. z.B., J. Archutowski, Patriarchal czy matriarchat, 1910; Monoteizm
izraelski i jego geneza (Der israelitische Monotheismus und seine Genese) 1924;
Kosmogonia bihlijna w swietle starowschodnich opowiadah i nauki (Die biblische
Kosmogonie im Lichte altorientalischer Erzahlungen und Wissenschaft) 1934;
Uber sein Leben und Werk siehe: St. Grzybek, Ruch Biblijny i Liturgiczny

(= RBL) 3 (1950) S. 164-173.

125) Vgl. z.B., St. Szczepanski, Najstarsze cywilizacje Wschodu klasycznego,
Babilon (Die alteste Zivilisation des klassischen Orients, Babylon) W.-L., 1923;
Ders., Mieszkahcy Palestyny pierwotnej (Die Bewohner Alt-Palastinas) K. 1920.

126) Vgl. z.B., F. Rozanski, Izraeiici, ich religia, obyczaje i zwyczaje (Israel,
seine Religion, Sitten und Moral) 2 Bde, L. 1879 (2. Aufl.); J. Poplicha,
Niektore zrodla babilonskiego opowiadania o potopie (Verschiedene Quellen
zur babylonischen Sintflut-Erzahlung) Prz. Teol. 3 (1922) S. 137-141; J. Jelito,
Slady kultury hetejskiej w Palestynie (Spuren hettischer Kultur in Palastina)
Prz. Teol. 8 (1927) S. 58-63* 189-192; J. Kruszynski, Religia izraelska w okresie
przedmojzeszowym (Die israelitische Religion vor Moses) At. Kap. 34 (1934)
S. 1-19; J. Teodorowicz, Od Jahwe do Mesjasza (Von Jahwe zum Messias)

P. 1936.

127) Vgl. z.B., W. Niemczyk, Idea zbawienia i odkupienia w religii Starego
Testamentu (Die Heils- und Erlosungsidee in der Religion des AT) K. 1932.

Religionswissenschaft in Polen

6 7

heute Professor an der Christlich-Theologischen Akademie (ChAT) 128 )
in Warschau. Seine Interessen richteten sich auf indische Religionen,
die er auch in Vergleich zum Christentum stellte 129 ). Auch Professor
J. Szeruda (1889-1962) 13 °), einer der bedeutendsten Exegeten und
Hebraisten, widmet sich in den fiinfziger Jahren als einer der ersten
den Fragen der Qumranforschung 131 ).

AuBerhalb des Universitatssektors reprasentiert in protestantischen
Kreisen P. Hulka-Laskowski (1881-1946) 132 ) die Religionswissen¬
schaft, die zur iiberkonfessionellen Betrachtungweise der Religion und
ihres Wesens oszilliert. Seine Tendenz zum Antikatholizismus ist jedoch
nicht zu leugnen.

Entscheidende Bedeutung fur die gegenwartige polnische Religions-
wissenschaft hat der Ruckgriff auf die marxistischen Religionswissen-
schaftler der Zwischenkriegsperiode, was sich am Beispiel von Jan
Hempel (1877-1937) 133 ) illustrieren laBt. Er beschaftigte sich mit
dem Christentum und seiner Kritik. Darin ist der EinfluB von K.

Heute gehort er zu den Bbersetzem der neuen polnischen Bibel im Rahmen der
Britisch and Foreign Bible Society.

128) Dazu siehe: E. Kneifel, Geschichte der Ev-Augsb. Kirche in Polen ,
Niedermarschacht 1962, S. 213-218, 240-245; Kirche im Osten (= Kir. Ost.)
2 ( 1959 ) S. 132, 3 (i960) S. 145, 5 (1962) S. 153, 6 (1963) S. 141, 7 (1964)
S. 164, 8 (1965) S. 162, 9 (1966) S. 142, 11 (1968) S. 140, 12 (1969) S. 138.

129) Vgl. z.B., W. Niemczyk, Problematyka cierpienia w Religii i Filozofii
(Das Problem des Leidens in Religion und Philosophie) K. 1937.

130) Das Wort Jahwes (Diss. Basel) 1920; Narodowy i uniwersalny charakter
religii zydowskiej (Der nationale und universale Charakter der israelitischen
Rdigion) W. 1922; siehe auch: RGG (3) Register, 242.

131) Vgl. J. Szeruda, Odkrycie rekopisu biblijnego ( IQIs ), Straznica Ewan -
gelicka, 6 (1951) S. 14; Ders., Uwagi gramatyczne i tekstowo-krytyczne do no-
woodkrytego rekopisu hebrajskiego Izajasza z Ain Fesha (Grammatische und text-
kritische Bemerkungen zum neuentdeckten hebraischen Manuskript Jesaias) RO 19
(1954) S. 144-162.

132) Zu Leben und Werk siehe: H. Wronski, Einfiihrung in P. Hulka-Laskowski,
Pi?c wiekow herezji , W. i960; Cz. Lechicki, in Jednota 21 (1963) 9; Bibliographic
in Slownik Wspolczesnych Pisarzy Polskich W. 1963, S. 690694; A. Badura,
in Jednota 25 (1967) 2, S. 19-21. In deutscher Sprache sind veroffentlicht: P.
Hulka-Laskowski, Der Klosterprozess von Czenstochowa , Frankfurt/M 1912;
Ders., Religiose Sekten in Polen, Frankfurt/M 1919.

133) Zu Leben und Werk siehe: W. Papiewska, Jan Hempel, W. 1958; fur
die Religionswissenschaft sind wichtig: J. Hempel, Ewangelie, ich powstanie i
znaczenie (Evangelien, ihre Enstehung und Bedeutung) W. 1923; Ders.,
Dziesigcioro przykazah (10 Gebote) W. 1924; Ders., Bohaterska etyka Ramajany
(Heldische Ethik der Ramayana) Lub. 1914.

Piotr O. Szolc

Kautsky 134 ) und H. Cunow 135 ) zu erkennen, deren Schriften er auch
in die polnische Sprache iibersetzte.

Nach dem zweiten Weltkrieg haben sich in Polen in Folge der Um-
walzungen auf sozial-politischer Ebene auch die Strukturen der Wis-
senschaft verandert. Im groBen und ganzen traten jedoch in den ersten
zehn Jahren der Nachkriegszeit dieselben Forscher an die Offentlich-
keit, die sich auch schon vor dem Kriege einen Namen gemacht hatten,
so z.B. Orientalisten 136 ), Historiker 137 ), Philologen 138 ) Ethno-
logen 139 ), und Archaologen 14 °), die alle die vorher initiierte religions-
wissenschaftliche Forschung weiterfiihrten 141 ). Mit dem Augenblick
des Erscheinens der „Religionswissenschaftlichen Rundschau. Euhe-

134) Der Ur sprung des Christentums (pol. W. 1923).

135) Der Ur sprung der Religion und des Gottesglaubens (pol. W. 1927).

136) Vgl. z.B., W. Jabtonski, „Etyka a etykieta konfucjanska” (Elhik und
Etikette des Konfuzianismus) Sprawozdania PAU (= Spr. PAU) 51 (1950) S.
13-15; H. Willman-Grabowska, Demonologia Athervavedy, Spr. PAU 49
(1948) S. 3-7; St. F. Michalski, Sciezka prawdy (palii) (Wege der Wahrheit)
Lo. 1948; E. Siuszkiewicz, Panstwo i spoleczenstwo w dawnych Indiach (Staat
und Gesellschaft im alten Indien) W. 1949; dazu siehe auch: H. Willman-
Grabowska, Szkice... a.a.O., S. 248-250.

137) Vgl. z.B., A. Szel^gowski, Kulty drzewne i mit ozyrysowy (Baum-
kulte und der osirianische Mythos), My si wspolczesna, (1948) 6/7 S. 374-383;
M. Markowska, Mity greckie (Griechische Mythologie) W. 1953 (2. Aufl.);
A. Chodzko-Domaniewska, O pierwiastkach egejskich w religii greckiej (Agaische
Elemente in der griechischen Religion) Meander 4 (1949) 9, S. 441-450; R.
Gansiniec, eine groBe Anzahl von Artikeln iiber antike Religionen in Filomata
(Krakow).

x 38) Vgl. z.B., T. Milewski, Religia Aztekow, in Aztek Anonim. Zdobycie
Meksyku , Wr.-K. 1959, S. XXVI-XXXVI; G. Labuda, Slowianszczyzna pier-
wotna (Die Urspriinge des Slawentums) W. 1954.

I;i 39) Vgl. z.B., J. Czekanowski, Wstgp do historii Slowian (Einfuhrung in die
Geschichte der Slawen) W. 1957; J. St. Bystron, Etnografia Polski , P. 1947.

140) Vgl. z.B., J. Krajewska (1901-1960); zu Ihrem Leben und Werk siehe:
J. Rosen-Przeworska, in Lud 47 (1961) S. 609-614; K. Judenko, Euh. 5 (1961)
2, S. no. W. Antoniewicz, O religii dawnych Siowian (t)ber die Religion der
alten Slawen), Swiatozvid 20 (1948/49) S. 327-343; K. Majewski, Les champs
de sepulture d’Ukraine et le probleme de la genese des Slaves orientaux (poU
mit Resume), Archeologia 2 (1948) S. 167-176 (493) und weitere zahlreiche
Artikel iiber slawische und friihgriechische Religionen in Archeologia.

141) In der Periode des marxistischen Dogmatismus (Stalinismus), der die
damalige Wissenschaftsstruktur implizierte, hielt man die Religionswissenschaft
fur eine der „Arbeiterklasse gegeniiber feindlich eingestellte, bourgeoise Lehre”.

Nach den politischen Umwalzungen im Oktober 1956 anderte sich auch die
Politik auf kultureller Ebene, so daB sich Religionswissenschaft als selbstandige
Disziplin etablieren konnte.

Religionsivissenschaft in Polen

mer” 142 ) im Jahre 1957 und der Griindung der „Polnischen Gesell-
schaft fur Religionswissenschaft” (Polskie Towarzystwo Religioz-
nawcze) 14S ), deren Organ die Zeitschrift ist, wurde auch die
Religionswissenschaft eine selbstandige wissenschaftliche Disziplin.
Schon kurze Zeit spater griindete man innerhalb der Polnischen
Akadetnie der Wissenschaften (Polska Akademia Nauk) 144 ) eine
religionswissenschaftliche Abteilung, die heute unter der Leitung des
ehemaligen Professors fur Ethik an der KUL, J. Keller steht, und
deren Organ „Studia religioznawcze” (Religionswissenschaftlichen
Studien, von 1 (1969) 1/2) ist.

Die Religionswissenschaftler, die sich in groBer Anzahl in den
Forschungszentren zusammenfinden, legen ihre religionswissenschaft¬
lichen Untersuchungen sehr breit an; sie teilen diese Wissenschaft
in folgende Gruppe auf 145 ) : (1) Allgemeine Religionstheorie, Metho-
dologie und Geschichte der Religionswissenschaft 146 ); (2) verglei-

142) Die erste Nummer fur November-Dezember erschien im Jahre 1957. Die
Redaktion hatte der fiihrende polnische Reprasentant des atheistischen Denkes,
A. Nowicki inne. (Das Inhaltsvcrzeichnis der Jahrgange 1960-1962 wurde auch
in franzosischer Sprache abgedruckt, ebenfals von 1963 in englischer Sprache,
so daB diese Artikel nach dem franzosischen Verzeichnis zitiert sind.)

143) Sie wurde am 24.06. 1958, anfangs unter der Leitung des Professors fur
Philosophic an der Universitat Warschau, J. Legowicz (vorher Professor an
der KUL), spater unter der Leitung von Prof. W. Lukaszewicz, gegriindet.
Weitere Griindungsmitglieder waren: A. Czubrynski, E. Kriegelewicz, Cz. Lechicki,
T. Margul, M. Nowaczyk, Z. Poniatowski, H. Rosen, A. Szel^gowski, H. Swi^t-
kowski. Dazu siehe: Euh. 1 (1957) 1, S. 125; 2 (1958) 4, S. 97; 5 (1961) 3,
S. 108-113.

144) Am Anfang im Jahre 1961, ist ,,Zaklad Religioznawstwa” (Religions¬
wissenschaftliche Abteilung) im Rahmen des Instituts fiir Soziologie und Philo¬
sophic der Polnischen Akademie der Wissenschaften (Direktor: Prof. Dr. J.
Legowicz) entstanden, welche in einzelne Sektionen unterteilt war: a) fiir
Geschichte und Theorie des Christentums unter der Leitung von J. Keller, b)
fiir Geschichte und Theorie des Atheismus unter der Leitung von A. Nowicki,
c) fur Geschichte und Methodologie der Religionswissenschaft unter der Lei¬
tung von Z. Poniatowski; vgl. Euh. 8 (1964) 1, S. 91 ff.

x 45 ) Vgl. Sommaire Euh. 10 (1966) 6, S. 95.

146) Diese Disziplin entstand durch die Initiative von Z. Poniatowski, als
Metareligionswissenschaft. Ihre Aufgabe sieht er in einer Abgrenzung des
Bereichs der Religionswissenschaft und in der Bezeichnung seiner Spezifik, Metho¬
dologie und Geschichte. Vgl. Z. Poniatowski, O istocie i strukturze religii
(tiber Wesen und Struktur der Religion) Katowice (= Kat.) 1958; Ders.,
Wstep... a.a.O.; Ders., Einfuhrung in Zarys dziejow religii (AbriB der Religions-
geschichte) W. 1964; Ders., Tresc wierzeh religijnych (Inhalt des religiosen
Glaubens) W. 1965; Ders., und M. Nowaczyk, Theorie generale de la religion,

Piotr 0. Szolc

chende Religionsgeschichte 147 ); (3) Religionssoziologie 148 ); (4)

Religionspsychologie 149 ); (5) Religionsethnologie 15 °); (6) Theorie
und Geschichte des Christentums 151 ); (a) Problematik der Genese

methodologie et l’histoire de la science des religions (pol.) Euh. 10 (1966)
6, S. 5-19; T. Margul, Sto lat nauki 0 religiach (Hundert Jahre Religionswissen-
schaft) W. 1964.

147) Zu diesem Gebiet ist zahlreiche Literatur entstanden, siehe: H. Swienko,
Materiaux a la bibliographic de la science des religions. Publications (1945-1966),
(poln.), Euh . 11 (1967) 1/2, S. 177-201 und weitere bibliographische Materialen in
Euhemer. Besondere Aufmerksamkeit verdienen: Z. Poniatowski (Hrsg.), Zarys...
a.a.O.; Ders., (Hrsg.) Maly slownik religioznawczy (Kleines religionswissen-
schaftliches Worterbuch) W. 1969; T. Margul der sich in erster Linie auf die
Religion Indiens (vgl. „Present-Day Worship of the Cow in India”, Numen 15
(1968) S. 63-80) wie auch auf die vergleidhende Religionsgeschichte, spezialisierte
(vgl. z.B., Mity z pi?ciu czgsci swiata (Mythen aus 5 Erdteilen) W. 1966; Ders.,
L’histoire comparee de la religion (pol.) Euh. 10 (1966) 6, S. 21-30.

148) Zu den fiihrenden Reprasentanten dieser Richtung gehort E. Ciupak, der
die Traditionen der polnischen soziologischen Schule fortfiihrt (vgl. z.B., Kultura
religijna wsi (Die religiose Kultur des Dorfes) W. 1961. Von besonderer Bedeu-
tung sind seine Forschungen am polnischen Katholizismus, vgl. dazu: Ders., Kult
religijny i jego spoleczne podloze. Studia nad polskim katolicyzmen. W. 1965; siehe
auch zu dieser Problematik: M. Kosciuszkiewicz, Bibliografia badan socjologicz-
nych nad postawami religijno-moralnymi (Bibliographic der soziologischen For-
schung liber religiose Moralpositionen), Studia Socjologiczne, (1964) 4; K. Juden-
ko und Z. Poniatowski, Sociologie de la religion, Euh. 10 (1966) 6, S. 31-43 (pol.).

149) Leider kann man noch nicht von eigenstandigen Forschungsergebnissen
sprechen, da man sich seither nur mit der Geschichte der Religionspsychologie
beschaftigte. Vgl. J. Szmyd, Psychologie de la religion (pol.), Euh. 10 (1966) 6,
S. 43-47.

150) Hier konzentriert sich die Aufmerksamkeit auf die Religionsgenese (vgl.
z.B., St. Kowalski, Spor o religig pierwotnq (Die Auseinandersetzung um die
urspriingliche Religion) W. 1966 (2. Aufl.)) und auf die Fremdvolkerreligionen
(vgl. z.B., A. Kuczynski, Le pluralisme des ames dans les croyances des peuples
paleoasiatiques (pol.) Euh. 12 (1968) 1, S. 37-46), man muB jedoch feststellen,
daB Ethnologen mit wenigen Ausnahmen, auBerhalb von Euhemer und der
‘Polnischen Religionswissenschaftlichen Gesellschaft’ forschen. Vgl. H. Swienko,
Ethnographie religieuse (pol.), Euh. 10 (1966) 6, S. 49-60.

151) Diese Disziplin ubernimmt in erster Linie eine kritische Analyse einer
katholischen theologischen Literatur, die man nicht als Randerscheinung dieser
Forschung betrachten kann, da eines der wesentlichen Elemente der polnischen
marxistischen Religionswissenschaft die Polemik der katholischen Interpretation
der Religionswissenschaft ist. Andererseits werden ausfiihrliche Forschungen
uber die Genese des Christentums angestellt, wozu man auch die Qumranforschung
zahlt, die im Sinne der ersten Auslegungen von A. Dupont-Sommer oder J. Allegro
betrieben wird (vgl. dazu W. Tyloch, Rgkopisy z Qumran nad Morzem Martwym
(Manuskripte aus Qumran am Toten Meer) W. 1963; Ders., Aspekty spoleczne
gminy z Qumran (Soziale Aspekte der Gemeinde von Qumran) W. 1968; weiter
siehe: Z. J. Kapera, La bibliographic polonaise des manuscrits de la Mer Morte

Religionswissenschaft in Polen

des Christemtums (Urchristentum), (b) Kirchengeschichte, (c) Die
Anfange und die Organisation der Kirche in Polen, (d) ethische
Problemstellung, (e) katholische Sozialdoktrinen, (f) kanonisches
Recht, (g) auBerkatholische Bekenntnisse 152 ); (7) christliche Philo¬
sophic 153 ); (8) Atheographie (Atheismus, seine Geschichte und Theo-
rie) 154 ).

Die Religionswissenschaft, die sich als marxistisch bezeichnet 15 5 )
geht von der These der Nichtwissenschaftlichkeit der Theologie lg 6) a us
und beschaftigt sich dennoch mit Disziplinen, die untrennbar mit Theo-
ligie verbunden sind, 157 ) was die oben erwahnte Gliederung beweist.

(pol.), Euh. 12 (1968) 2 } S. 129-140 wie auch Bibliographic in Revue du Qumran).

Des weiteren findet man dort auch historische Problematiken, die sich auf die
Funktion der Kirche in der Geschichte Polens beschranken, wie auch allgemeine
Probleme der Kirchengeschichte und katholischen Philosopie (Kritik des Neotho-
mismus und Personalismus) mit besonderer Beriicksichtigung der Dialoge und
der Okumenismusthematik. Vgl. J. Keller, La theorie et Thistoire du chris-
tianisme (pol.), Euh. 10 (1966) 6, S. 61-69.

152) Diese Teilung der „Theorie und der Geschichte des Christentums” scheint
durch die wissenschaftliche Herkunft des Professors J. Keller impliziert zu sein,
der in seiner Zeit als Professor fur katholische Ethik zu den fiihrenden Person-
lichkeiten der katholischen Universitat in Lublin gehorte und der immer die Not-
wendigkeit der Fortfiihrung dieser charakteristischen Disziplin der katholischen
Theologie, die heutzutage als kritischer Apparat gegen die gegenwartigen Ten-
denzen des Katholizismus in Polen gebraucht wird.

153) Diese Disziplin ist mehr ein Hilfsmittel der Religionswissenschaft, in der
man von einem marxistisch-philosophischen Standpunkt aus die christliche Philo¬
sophic in Geschichte und Gegenwart zu analysieren und zu kritisieren versucht.
Vgl. z.B. J. Legowicz, FilozQfia okresu cesarstwa rzymskiego (Philosophic der
romischen Kaiserzeit) W. 1962; W. Heinrich, Historia filozofii sredniowiecznej
(Geschichte der Philosophic des MA) W. 1965; L. Kolakowski, Notatki 0
wspoiczesnej kontrreformacji (Notizen zur Gegenreformation der Gegenwart)
W. 1962; T. Pluzanski, Theilhard de Chardin, W. 1964; siehe dazu: J. Borgosz,
La philosophic chretienne (pol.), Euh. 10 (1966) 6, S. 71-81.

154) Vgl. A. Nowicki, Esquisse de Thistoire de Tatheographie en Pologne,
(pol.), Euh. 10 (1966) 6, S. 83-89 und da zitierte Literatur.

155) Vgl. A. Nowicki, Rola kategorii ‘formy’ i ‘^ 65 ^ w definiowaniu religii i
ateizmu (Die Funktion der Kathegorien ‘Form’ und Tnhalt’ bei der Religion
und des Atheismus), Euh. 2 (1958) 3, S. 17-30; Ders., Les cathegories centrales
de la science marxiste des religions, (pol.) Euh. 13 (1969) 1/2, S. 3-17 (pol.).
Mata Encyklopedia Religioznazvstra Marksistowskiago (Kleine Enzyklopadie der
marxistischen Religionswissenschaft) Euh. 14 (1970) 3/4.

156) Vgl. z.B., T. Kotarbinski, Wyklady z dziejow logiki (Vorlesungen aus der
Logik Geschichte) Lo. 1957; Ders., 0 pojgciu metody (fiber den Begriff Methode)
W. 1957, S. 3 f; Z. Poniatowski, Nauka a religia (Wissenschaft und Religion)
W. 1963.

Piotr O. Szolc

Die Charakteristika, die Ziele und die Doktrinen dieser religions-
wissenschaftlichen Kreise weisen, trotz allgemein vorgegebenem, theo-
retischem Programm, keine einheitlichen Ansichten auf. Dieser Mangel
wird sogar in zentralen methodologischen Punkten offenkundig. Die
Auseinandersetzung wird durch folgende Aussage von A. Nowicki in
scharfen Konturen umrissen: . . fur uns Marxisten ist der hochste

Wert nicht diese oder jene Religionsstruktur, sondern die soziale
Funktion, die die jeweilige Religion erfiillt” 158 ). Von Seiten des
fiihrenden Methodologen der polnischen Religionswissenschaft, Z.
Poniatowski 159 ), und einigen bedeutenden Orientalisten 16 °), die zu

157) Vgl. M. Nowaczyk, La iheorie marxiste de la religion (pol.). 5 (1961)
1, S. 106-124; viele der hier erwahnten Disziplinen werden im Westen zur
Theologie gezahlt, jedoch kann man auch dort schon Tendenzen zur Integration
der Religionswissenschaft in die Theologie sehen, so vor allem in Skandinavien
(vgl. dazu: C.-M. Edsman, Theologie oder Religionswissenschaft?, Theol. Rund.
NF (1970) S. 1-32). Sie sind jedoch nicht so scharf abgegrenzt wie in der polni¬
schen Religionswissenschaft, wo man von einer negativen Kritik der Religion
ausgeht.

158) Vgl. A. Nowicki, Enh. 4 (i960) 5/6, S. 197.

159 ) Vgl. Z. Poniatowski, Tresc... a.a.O., S. 15 f.

160) Vgl. S. Strelcyn, in: La discussion avec les orientalistes (pol.) Euh.
5 (1961) 5, 68: „...obwohl — ich zitiere nach Dr. Nowicki — ,die soziale Funktion
der Religion objektiv das wichtigste (fur die religionswissenschaftliche For-
schung) ist’, laBt sich dennoch nicht postulieren, daB sich ein Orientalist oder
Philologe ausschlieBlich mit dieser Disziplin zu beschaftigen hat. Was tragt es
denn aus, daB ich als Athiopist bei Forschungen iiber die christliche Religion
der Bevolkerung Abessiniens in Richtung der Vorschlage von Dr. Nowicki gehe
und mit den Problemen der sozialen Funktion, mit der Analyse des religiosen
Schrifttums Abessiniens beginne? Was bringt das? Im Grunde genommen
finde ich dann nichts anderes als das, was man im Katholizismus findet, der auch
fur Nichtorientalisten ein einfaches Forschungsobjekt ist.” wie auch W. Ko-
tanski, a.a.O., S. 72: „...Besonders beunruhigend sind Nowicki’s weitere Aus-
fiihrungen, die besagen, daB die soziale Funktion (der Religion) als Funktion
der Klassen zu verstehen sei. Man kann zwar nicht bestreiten, daB viele Aspekte
des religiosen Lebens in der Gesellschaft etwas mit der Problematik des Klas-
senkampfes gemeinsam haben; es ist wichtig, solche Momente in die Forschung
einzubeziehen, jedoch, ware es nicht falsch, andere mogliche Erscheinungsformen
von sozialem Belang in der Religion unberucksichtigt zu lassen? (...) Es ist
klar, daB jede Erscheinung (religiose) auf einem ganz bestimmten Forschungs-
gebiet seine ganz bestimmte Ursachen und Konsequenzen in den sozialen Be-
ziehungen wie auch in den Existenzsituationen einer bestimmten ethnischen Gruppe
hat, so daB die Aufgabe des Religionswissenschaftlers, meiner Meinung nach,
in einer adaquaten Nachweisung ganz bestimmter Implikationen besteht, z.B.
in vielen, vor allem primitiven Religionen, der Nachweis der bedeutenden Funk¬
tion der Magie (...) wo anders wieder ist es wichtig, seine Aufmerksamkeit auf
Reformatoren der Religion zu richten (...).”

Religionswissenschaft in Polen

den Herausgebern von Euhemer gehoren, wurde er heftig kritisiert.

A. Nowicki, Hauptideologe der marxistischen Religionswissenschaft,
bekannt durch seine Arbeiten uber den Atheismus und seine Ge-
schichte 161 ), benutzt trotz seiner Abneigung gegen den Struktura-
lismus und Phanomenologie Begriffe, die charakteristisch sind fiir
religiose Strukturen, was u.a. der Begriff ,,Unsterblichkeit” 162 ) in
seiner Theorie des Atheismus beweist.

Um die Entwicklung der heutigen polnischen Religionswissenschaft
macht sich vor allem Zygmunt Poniatowski verdient. Er — der als
erster in Polen in Fach Religionswissenschaft habilitierte — unter-
nahm den Versuch diese Wissenschaft dem breiterem Publikum zu-
ganglich zu machen In seinen mehr als 160 Publikationen liegt das
Hauptgewicht auf dem Problem der Entstehung des Christentums.

Dieser religionswissenschaftliche Kreis versuchte die erheblichen
Liicken in der polnischen religionswissenschaftlichen Literatur nicht
nur durch eigene Verbffentlichungen 163 ), sondern auch mit Uber-
setzungen der klassischen Werke weltlicher religionswissenschaftlicher
Literatur, wie z.B. von O. James, R. Pettazzoni, M. Eliade, R. Otto,
J. Wach 164 ) (in Vorbereitung sind M. Weber, G. van de Leeuw und
C. G. Jung), zu schlieBen.

Dem marxistischen Forschungsprogramm prazise untergeordnet
sind die Abhandlungen iiber die soziale Funktion der Religion 165 ),

161) Vgl. z.B., A. Nowicki, Wyklady o krytyce religii (Vorlesungen zur Kri-
tik der Religion) W. 1963; mehrere Abhandlungen iiber G. Bruno und Vanini,
besonders in Euh. (z.B. Les exemplaires des premieres editions des oeuvres de
Vanini dans les bibliotheques du monde, (pol.) Euh. 9 (1965) 5, S. 3-31; 10
(1966) 3/4, S. 103-120; 11 (1967) 1/2, S. 171-176).

162) Vgl. A. Nowicki, La perspective atheiste de l’immortalite, (pol.), Euh
11 (1967) 1/2, S. 45-51.

163) Vgl. z.B. Z. Poniatowski, Zarys... a.a.O. (2. Aufl. hrsg. von J. Keller);
T. Margul, Present-Day... a.a.O.; J. Wierusz-Kowalski, Les principaux elements
de la structure du long age sacte (pol. mit Resume in russ., engl. und franz.) Studia
Rel. 1 (1969) 1/2 S. 33 - 54 , siehe auch: „Register zu Euhemer (1957-1966)” in
Euh. 11 (1967) 1/2, und hier bereits zitierte Literatur.

164) Das Programm dieser Reihe (Seria „R”) ist von A. Nowicki kritisiert
worden (vgl. Les cathegories... a.a.O., S. 12 f), besonders in Hinsicht auf R. Otto
und M. Eliade als aufierst gefahrlich fiir die richtige Entwicklung der mar¬
xistischen Religionswissenschaft.

165) Vgl. z.B., E. Sluszkiewicz, La fonction sociale der Manavadharmasastra,
(pol.), Euh . 6 (1962) 3, S. 15-19; J. Tabaczynska, Le culte de l’empereur au
Japon (pol.), Euh. 5 (1961) 1, S. 3-12; W. Tyloch, La fonction sociale de
L’Ancien Testament. Le probleme de l’esclavage a la lumiere de certains textes

Piotr 0. Szolc

iiber den Zerfall von Religionen 166 ) und iiber den Atheismus 167 ).
AuBerdem beschaftigen sich marxistische Religionswissenschaftler mit
allgemeiner Religionsgeschichte. Veroffentlichungen dariiber stammen
hauptsachlich von Orientalisten 168 ). In der Zeitschrift Euhemer
erscheinen Artikel, deren Themen im Westen nur von Exegeten be-
arbeitet werden. 169 )

Des weiteren lenkten Philosophen ihre Aufmerksamkeit den Reli¬
gionen zu, so vor allem L. Kotakowski 170 ), B. Suchodolski 171 ) u.a.,
deren Thesen nicht immer den Interpretationen des ideologischen Uber-
baus entsprechen, deren Vertreter Nowicki 172 ) ist. Er postuliert eine

du Pentateuque (pol.), Euh. 6 (1962) 5, S. 3-17; 6 (1962) 6, S. n-19; Ders.,
La fonction sociale du Nouveau Testament, (pol.), Euh. 8 (1964) 4, S. 3 _I 6; T. Zbi-
kowski, Confucius et la fonction sociale du confucianisme (pol.), Euh. 9
(1965) 3, S. 9-21; St. Piekarczyk, Les fonctions sociales des religions et la morale
des dieux scandinaves (pol.), Euh. 7 (1963) 1, S. 3-16.

166) Vgl. z.B., Margul, L’extinction du culte de Mardouk babylonien (pol.),
Euh. 9 (1965) 4, S. 3-12; Ders., Le proces de l’extinction de la religion de
l’ancienne Lgypte (pol.), Euh. 10 (1966) 1, S. 5-15.

167) Vgl. z.B., J. Galecki, L’atheisme de Nicolai Hartmann (1882-1950)
(pol.), Euh. 9 (1965) 5, S. 87-102; M. Skrzypek, L’atheisme de Meslier
(1664-1729) (pol.), Euh. 10 (1966) 5, S. 45 - 54 -

168) Vgl. z.B. S. Strelcyn, Un magicien grec en Lthiopie, JA 239 (195 1 )
S. 175-191; Ders., Prieres magiques ethiopiennes pour delier les charmes, W.
1955 (weitere siehe in Euh. 12 (1968) 2, S. 142-Bibliog.) St. Kaluzynski, Les
religions du Tibet (pol.), Euh. 5 (1961) 4, S. 3-16; Ders., Le chamanisme
(pol.), Euh. 7 (1963) 2, S. 63-81; E. Sluszkiewicz, Budda i jego nauka (Buddha
und seine Lehre) W. 1965; W. Kotanski, Zarys dziejow religii Japonii (AbriB
der Geschichte der Religion in Japan) W. 1965; W. Tyloch, 30 ans de decou-
vertes a Ras Shamra-Ugarit (pol.), Euh. 4 (i960) 1, S. 92-112; Ders., Cul¬
ture et Religion des Hittites (pol.), Euh. 4 (i960) 3, S. 94-109.

169) Vgl. z.B., Z. Poniatowski, £tat de recherches sur le probleme de Logos
(pol.), Euh. 6 (1962) 6, S. 3-10; Ders., Les recherches statistiques sur le Nou¬
veau Testament (pol.), Euh. 9 (1965) 4, S. 13-27; Ders., Le prologue de
l’Lvangile selon Jean — un hymne prechretien? (pol.), Euh. 11 (1967) 4 / 5 >
S. 59-70; Ders., Au commencement etait le Logos (In 1, ia), Studia Rel. 1
(1969) 1/2 S. 55-80 (pol. mit Resume).

170) t)ber die polnische Philosophic und ihre Tendenzen siehe: Z. A. Jordan,
Marxistischer Revisionismus in Polen, in Marxismusstudien, 5 Folge (1968)
S. 85-129 und die dort zitierte Literatur; L. Kotakowski, Kultura i fetysze, W.
1967; Ders., Swiadomosc religijna i wi?z koscielna, W. 1965 (franz. Chretiens
sans Eg Use. La connaissance religieuse et le lien confessionnel au XVII e siecle.
Leiden 1969); Ders., Einfiihrung zu: M. Eliade, Traite... (pol. Ubersetzung)
W 1966, S XI-XV.

171) Vgl. z.B., Filozofia mitu, in Nauka i sztuka (1946) 5/6, S. 191-211;
Idea mitu , a.a.O., (1946) 1, S. 27-47.

172) Vgl. A. Nowicki, Les cathegories... a.a.O., S. 13 f.

Religionswissenschaft in Polen

fur die UDSSR charakteristische religionswissenschaftliche Gestaltung.

In Universitats-Kreisen nehmen die Archaologen in der Religions-
forschung 173 ) einen bedeutungsvollen Platz ein, da sie fur einige
Bereiche ergiebiges Material bereitstellen konnen, das fiir die Religions¬
wissenschaft auf internationaler Ebene von Wichtigkeit ist. Die
Interessen Professor K. Michatowski’s 174 ) und seiner „Schule” rich-
ten sich auf eine „komplexere” archaologische Forschung, die auch
Religionen altertumlicher Kulturen, so die Agyptens, 175 ) des Su-

173) Siehe dazu: Materiaty do Bibliografii archeoiogii srodziemnomorskiej s
Polsae za lata 1800-1967 (Polnische Materialien zur Bibliographic der Mittel-
meerraum-Archaologie, 1800-1967) W. 1952-69, 3Bde (weitere Bde folgen),
bibliografii archeoiogii srodziemnomorskiej w Polsce za lata W. 19 Bde 3;
vgl. z.B. K. Majewski, Monuments et images representant l’elite au pouvoir
comme moyens d’exercer une influence ideologique sur la societe a l’epoque
de l’Antiquite et les siecles suivants, in Congress. Inter. Antiq. Graceo-Romana ac
tempora nostra, Argumenta lectionum , Brno 12-16.04.1966, S. 61-66; B. Rutkowski,
The decline of the minoan peak sanctuaries, in Atti e Memoire del i° Congresso
Inter, di Micenologia, Roma, 27. settembre-3. ottoble 1967, seconda parte, Roma
1967, S. 157-162; J. Kostrzewski, Kultura prapolska (Urpolnische Kultur), be-
sonders S. 325-412, W. 1962 und da zitierte Literatur; Slavia antiqua (Hrsg.
W. Hensel) in poln., tschechisch, franz., engl. u.a. (bis 1968, 15 Bde) bringt
Material zu slawischen Religionen; YV. Antoniewicz, O religiach dawnych
Slowian (Uber die Religionen der alten Slawen) in Religic szviata, W. 1957,

s. 327-344.

174) Professor K. Michatowski gehort zu den beriihmtesten Archaologen
unserer Zeit. In seinen Forschungen geht er uber den Rahmen der reinen
Archaologie hinaus und beschaftigt sich mit allgemeinen Problemen der antiken
Kulturen im Mittelmeerraum. Zu erwahnen sind hier seine Arbeiten fiber den
architektonischen Kanon agyptischer Tempel ( Kanon w architekturze egipskiej,
W. 1956) wie auch Abhandlungen zur agyptischen (z.B. Atum, bog Heliopolis,
W. 1945) und griechischen (z.B. Bogozme i ludzie w sztuce greckiej, W. 1929-1930)
Religion. Von besonderer Bedeutung sind seine jiingsten Veroffentlichungen zu
Problemen des christlichen Nubiens (Faras. Die Kathedrale aus dem Wiistensand,
Ziirich/Koln 1967 und die dort zitierte Literatur) und Agyptens (Agypten, Kunst
und Kultur (Herder) 1969). Es ist hier zu erwahnen, daB im Jahre 1967, dem
Jubilaumsjahr seiner 40-jahrigen wissenschaftlichen Tatigkeit, die Festschrift
Melanges offerts a Kazimderz Michatowski, W. 1967 entstanden ist, der man
eine groBe Bedeutung fiir Altertumsforschung nicht absprechen kann; siehe
dazu: M. Marciniak, Euh. 12 (1968) 1, S. 152; P. Szolc, Archeologia w sluzbie
czlowieka (Die Archaologie im Dienste des Menschen. Interview mit Prof.
K. Michalowski), Jednota 25 (1967) 2, S. 10 f., 18 f.

x 75 ) Vgl. z.B., T. Andrzejewski, Le papyrus mythologique de Te-hem-en-Mout ,
W. Paris J959; Ders., Egipskie Ksifgi snow (Agyptische Traumbficher) Przeglad
Orientalistyczny 2 (1959) 4, S. 369-381; Ders., Ksiqga Umarlych piastunki Kai,
papirus ze zbiorow Muzeum Narodowego w Warszawie (Totenbuch ..., Papirus
aus der Sammlung des Nationalmuseums Warschau) W. 1952; M. Marciniak,

Piotr O. Szolc

dans 176 ) (Nubien), Palmyras 177 ), und der klassischen antiken
Welt 178 ) beriicksichtigt. Als Ergebnis seiner Entdeckungen, beson-
ders in Nubien, kann man heute unter Verwendung des Materials
anderer Nubienforscher sehr viel Neues uber das Fruhchristentum 179 )
an den Peripherien der antiken Welt und uber die Funktion der
christlichen Kunst aussagen, die, gestiitzt auf ihren ikonographischen
Kanon, die Rolle einer religiosen Sprache gespielt hat. 18 °)

Fur die Religionsforschung liefert ebenfalls das polnische Zentrum
fur afrikanische Studien wichtiges Material. Es war von Professor
S. Strelcyn geleitet, der als der Herausgeber der international aner-
kannten Zeitschrift „Africana Bulletin” 181 ) bekannt wurde. Die

Quelques remarques sur la formule ir nfr, ir nfr, in Travaux du Centre d’Archeo-
logie M edit erraneenne de I’Academie Polonaise des Sciences, Etudes et Travaux ,
II (1968) S. 25-32; J. Lipinska, Names and history of the sanctuaries built by
Tuthmosis III at Deir el-Bahari, JEA 53 (1967) S. 25-33; W. Zdrojewska,
Alexandrian Stattuete of Eros from Polish Excavations at Tell Atrib, Etudes...
a.a.O., II, S. 243-256; K. Mysliwiec, Une esquisse du decorateur du temple
d’Horus a Edfou, Etudes... a.a.O., Ill (1969) S. 63-80; E. Dqbrowska-Smektala,
La confession d’un Lgyptien (poh), Euh. 9 (1965) 1, S. 77-89.

176) K. Michafowski, a.a.O.; S. Jakobielski, Two Coptic Foundation Stones
from Faras, Melanges (K. Michalowski) W. 1966, S. 103-109. Siehe dazu Biblio¬
graphic in: Das Wunder aus Faras = Katalog, Villa Hiigel-Essen, 1969 Reckling¬
hausen 1969, S. 147-150.

177) Vgl. z.B., M. Gawlikowski, Les dieux du Palmyre dans la lumiere de
l’archeologie (pol.), Euh. 9 (1965) 6, S. 3-12: Ders, Les pretres de Palmyre.
Problemes d’iconographie, (pol. mit Resume) in Studia palmyrehskie (Hrsg.
K. Michalowski), I (1966) S. 74-95; T. Borkowska, Les bas-reliefs votifs de
Palmyre, a.a.O., S. 96-124.

178) Vgl. z.B., Z. Kiss, Dionysos Enfant sur une panthere, Etudes... a.a.O., II,
S. 267-276; J. Kubinska, Les monuments funeraires dans les inscriptions grecques
de l’Asie Mineure, W. 1968.

179) Vgl. K. Michalowski, La Nubie chretienne, in Africana Bulletin 3 (1965)
S. 9-26; P. Szolc, Remarks on hebrew inscription and symbolics of Faras
Etudes... o.a.O., II, S. 285-294; Ders., Chrzescijanstwo nubijskiej pustyni
(Christentum in nubischen Wiistensand) in Pielgrzym Polski (= PP) 42 (1968)
12; Ders., „Apostelgeschichte 8, 26-40 im Lichte der Archaologie”, in Pro Unitate,
Heidelberg 1969, S. 27-32.

180) Vgl. z.B., K. Michalowski, a.a.O.; T. Golgowski, On the iconography of
the Holy Virgin represented on Faras murals. Standing Virgin holding the Child
on her Arm, Etudes... a.a.O., II, S. 295-312; Ders., Scenes de la Passion et la
Resurrection sur une peinture de Faras, Etudes... a.a.O., Ill (1969) S. 207-230;
P. Szolc, Remarks... a.a.O.; Ders., Some Problems of the Genesis of Paiting
in Faras, Etudes... a.a.O., Ill, S. 199-206.

181) Africana Bulletin das seit 1961 erscheint, enthalt englische und fran-
zosische Artikel uber Probleme Afrikas.

Religionswissenschaft in Polen

Thematik dieser Zeitschrift greift neue Materialen und Bearbeitungen
der Religionsproblematik Afrikas auf.

Moderne ethnologische Arbeiten befassen sich vor allem mit Pro-
blemen des Ritus 182 ) und der Volksdamonologie 183 ), den Religionen
der Gesellschaften Sudamerikas 184 ), Nordamerikas und Asiens 185 ).
In enger Beziehung dazu stehen philologisch-folkloristische Forschun-
gen 186 ).

Auch in den katholischen Kreisen haben die vergleichenden Reli-
gionswissenschaften die Aufmerksamkeit auf sich gelenkt; ihren Aus-
druck fanden sie in den unter der Leitung von E. D^browski (1901-
1970) 187 ) herausgegebenen Werken unter dem Titel „Religie swiata”
(Welt religionen) 188 ) und ,,Religie Wschodu” (Religionen des

182) Vgl. z.B., B. Btazinska, La magie et son rapport avec la religion a
Podhale (pol.), Euh. 4 (1961) 5, S. 36-43; J. P. Dekowski, Stan i problematyka
badan nad obrz^dowosci^ ludow^ srodkowego dorzecza Pilicy (Der Stand und
die Problematik der Forschung im Gebiet des Pilica-Flusses) Studia Etnogra-
ficzne 5 (1963) S. 75-99; weitere Angabe siehe: E. Karwot, Zagadnienia wierzen
i magii w pracach Polskiego Towarzystwa Ludoznawczego na tie osiggni^c etno-
grafii polskiej w ostatnim dziesi^cioleciu (Probleme des Glaubens und der Magie
in den Arbeitender Polnischen Gesellschaft fur Volkerkunde, die auf Grund der
Ergebnisse der polnischen Ethnographie in den letzten zehn Jahren entstanden
sind), Lud 43 (1956) S. 71-92.

183) Vgl. z.B., B. Baranowski, Procesy czarownic w Polsce w XVII i XVIIIw.
(Polnische Hexenprozesse im 17. und 18. Jhd) L. 1952; W. Drozdowska, Istoty
demoniczne (Damonische Wesen) Lo., Studia FJnograficzne 6 (1966) S. 177-184.

184) Vgl. z.B., R. H. Nocon, Dzieje i kultura Inkow (Geschichte und Kultur
der Inkas) W.-Wr.-K., 1958; Ders., Kobieta w zyciu Indian Ameryki Poludniowej
(Die Bedeutung der Frau im Leben der sudamerikanischen Indianer) Kat.
1964 (besonders S. 90-132; 207-293); M. Frankowska, Zwierz^eta w gospodarce,
wierzeniach i zwyczajach Indian Peru XVI i XVIIw. w swietle kroniki Felipe
Guaman Poma de Ayala (Die Funktion des Tieres in der Wirtschaft, in den
Sitten und im Glauben der peruanischen Indianer i6. und 17. Jhd. im Lichte der
Chronik...), E. P. 4 (1961) S. 173-205.

185) Vgl. z.B., B. Kohutnicki, Podobienstwo elementow kultu niedzwiedzia u
ludow polnocnych obszarow Ameryki i Azji (Vergleichbare Elemente der Baren-
kulte der Volker in den nordlichen Regionen Amerikas und Asiens, E. P. 9

(1965) s. 322-346.

186) Vgl. J. Krzyzanowski, „Dwudziestolecie folklorystiki polskiej ” (20 Jahre
polnische Folkloristik), Literature Ludowa 8 (1964) 4/6, S. 4 ff.

187) Der fiihrende Reprasentant der katholischen exegetischen Schule in Polen,
(Prof, am KUL 1945-1955) war der Herausgeber polnischer Kommentare zum
Alten und Neuen Testament (im Verlag Pallottinum, Poznan). An Rande seiner
Hauptforschung beschaftigt er sich mit religionswissenschaftlicher Problematik,
besonders mit antiken Religionen.

188) E. D^browski, Religie swiata , W. 1957 enthalt in seiner Bibliographic
zahlreiche polnische religionswissenschaftliche Publikationen (S. 359 ff.).

Piotr O. Szolc

Orient) 189 ). Einen besonderen Rang in der Religionswissenschaft
dieses Kreises nimmt die Religionsethnologie — die immer noch im
Geiste Wilhelm Schmidt’s betrieben wird — (E. Bulanda, T. Chod-
zidfo) 19 °) und die Religionspsychologie 191 ) ein, die in Polen nur
von katholischen Wissenschaftlern reprasentiert wird. Man vertritt
hierin natiirlich eine der marxistisch-religionswissenschaftlichen Mei-
nung vollkommen entgegengesetzte Position 192 ),, woraus sich polemi-
sierende Diskussionen ergaben.

Das Bild der polnischen Religionswissenschaft ware nicht vollstandig,
ohne Hinzuziehung des katholischen Laientums, das sich bei PAX 193 ),
WIIJZ 194 ) und ZNAK 195 ) konzentriert. In diesen Zeitschriften wird

189) E. Dabrowski (Hrsg.), Religie Wschodu , P.-W.-Lub, 1962; vgl. dazu:
Discussion sur le livre de..., Euh. 8 (1964) 1, S. 77-86.

190) Vgl. z.B., T. Chodzidlo, 85-lecie ks. Wilhelmina Schmidta (85 Jahre...)
in RBL 7 (1953) 6, S. 198-200; Ders., Znaczenie historii religii w apologetyce
(Die Bedeutung der Religionsgeschichte fiir die Apologetik), RTK 8 (1961) 3,
S. 23 ff.; Ders., Powszechnosc zjawiska religijnego (Die Allgemeinheit reli-
gioser Erscheinungen), At. Kap. 52 (i960) Bd. 60, H. 1, S. 19-30; E. Bulanda,
Czy kryzys etnologicznej szkoly wiedenskiej ? (Liegt eine Krisis der Wiener
ethnologischen Schule vor?, Lud 45 (1958) S. 91-124; Ders., Geneza i znaczenie
mitu w historii kultury (Genese und Bedeutung des Mvthos in der Kultur-
geschichte), RBL 12 (1959) 4, S. 373-396; Ders., Poczatki i powstanie religii w
swietle nowszych badan prehistorii i etnologii (Die Entstehung und die Anfange
der Religion im Lichte der neuen prahistorischen und ethnologischen Forschungen),
Collectanea Theologica (= CT ) (1961) fasc. 1/4 S. 85-104; weitere Angaben
siehe in der Bibliographic, Euh. 11 (1967) 1/2, S. 179, 182, 191, 200.

191) Vgl. z.B., J. Pastuszka, Czlowiek religyny jako problem psychologiczny
(Der religiose Mensch als psychologisches Problem), Zeszyty Naukowe KUL
(= ZN KUL) (1963) 1, S. 3-14; Ders., Psychologiczne zrodla niewiary (Psycho-
logische Quellen des Unglaubens) Lub 1946; T. Majkowski, Psychologia ascezy,
At. Kap. 55 (1963) Bd. 66, H. 3/4, S. 234-239; weitere siehe in Bibliographic...
a.a.O., S. 183 f.

192) Vgl. z.B., J. Majka, Ksi^zka o religijnosci wsi (Buch iiber die Religio-
sitat des Dorfes. Randbemerkungen zu E. Ciupak, Kultura... a.a.O.) Tygodnik
Powszechny (Tyg. Pow) (1961) Nr. 25, S. 5.7; A. Pruszko, Religia a problem
dezintegracji czlowieka wspolczesnego (Die Religion und die Probleme der
Desintegration des modemen Menschen), At. Kap. 52 (i960) Bd. 60, H. 1,
S. 115-120.

193) „PAX” unterhalt als sozialistische Organisation mit christlicher Welt¬
anschauung in seiner umfangreichen Publikationstatigkeit 5 Zeitschriften ( Slowo
Powszechne , Kierunki, WTK, Zorza swiateczna, Zycie i Mysl) und 1 Verlag
(Instytut Wydawniczy PAX). Es werden hier sowohl Abhandlungen polnischer als
auch auslandischer Autoren veroffentlicht. Von besonderer Bedeutung ist die
Monatzeitschrift Zycie i Mysl (Leben und Denken).

194) Vgl. dazu Monatzeitschrift Wi?z und Anm. 195.

195) Diese Zeitschrift wie auch die schon erwahnte Wiqz reprasentieren den

Religionswissenschaft in Polen

neben dem Dialog mit atheistisch-marxistischen Kreisen 196 ) besonders
das gegenwartige religionswissenschaftliche und theologische (auch
protestantische) Denken 197 ) betrachtet; aber im Grunde wollen katho-
lische, besonders theologische Kreise der Religionswissenschaft eine
apologetische Funktion unterschieben 198 ), die eine hinreichend objek-
tive Religions forschung jedoch nicht immer zulaBt.

Man kann heute bereits von einer Religionswissenschaft in pro-
testantischen Kreisen sprechen, die ihr Denken mit der bekannten
protestantischen Tradition der Religionswissenschaft in der Welt
zu verbinden sucht. Obwohl an der protestantischen Hochschule 199 )
Lehrstiihle fur Religionsgeschichte und Religionsphilosophie existieren,
kann man leider keine besonderen wissenschaftlichen Leistungen 20 °)
von Seiten dieses Zentrums anfuhren. Die eigentliche Religionswissen¬
schaft ist bei der protestantischen und okumenischen Presse zu Hause
(besonders: Jednota, Poslannictwo, Pielgrzym Polski) wo man atheis-
tische Interpretationen kritisiert, die beispielsweise Biblistik und die
Probleme indischer Religionen betreffen 201 ). Des weiteren versucht
man, gegenwartiges protestantisches Gedankengut 202 ) und Probleme
der Religionsphanomenologie, mit besonderer Beriicksichtigung der
Sprache der Religion 203 ), der Qumranforschung 204 ), des Friihchris-
tentums 205 ) und des Islam zu popularisieren.

Kreis der katholischen Laienintelligenz, die in ihren religionswissenschaftlichen
Veroffentlichungen eine Gegenposition zur marxistisch-atheistischen Religions¬
wissenschaft aufzubauen versucht. Vgl. z.B., J. Majkowski, Psychologia religii,
Znak io (1958) 8/9, S. 920-938; K. Kdosak, Proba rozwi^zania problemu pochodrz-
enia duszy ludzkiej (Ein Versuch zur Losung des Entstehungsproblems der
menschlichen Seele), Znak 13 (1961) 9, S. 1181-1234; J. Turowicz, Wielkie religie
wobec wspofczesnosci (Die Stellung der GroBen Religionen zur Gegenwart), Znak
12 (i960) S. 1105-1235; A. Morawska, Socjologia a odnowa (Soziologie und
Renovation), Znak 16 (1964) S. 722-733.

196) Vgl. z.B., La discussion d’un livre recent Sociologie de la religion (pol.)
(das in der Buchreihe „Wigz” erschienen ist (1962)). Euh. 7 (1963) 5, S. 57-73
an welcher auch Mitglieder der ZNAK und WIIJ 2 teilgenommen haben.

197) Vgl. z.B., A. Morawska, Paul Tillich, Znak 17 (1965) 7IS, S. 986-1010.

198) Vgl. z.B., W. Kwiatkowski, Apologetyka totalna, W. 1961, Bd 1 S. 24-45.

199) W. Niemczyk, Historia religii, W. 1965; Ders., Filozofia religii, W. 1965
und Veroffentlichungen in: Rocznik Teologiczny CHAT.

200) Vgl. z.B., K. Karski, Islam i chrzescijanstwo (Islam und das Christen-
tum) (Diss. Warszawa ChAT, 1967).

201) Vgl. z.B., P. Szolc, Czy Biblia mowi prawde? (Eine kritische Rezension
des Buches von E. Garden, Ob die Bibel recht hat? (1959)), Jednota 24 (1966) 10,

Piotr O. Szolc

S. 14-18; Ders., Gandhi a chrzescijanstwo (Gandhi und das Christentum), PP 42
(1968) 7/8, S. 80-86.

202) Vgl. z.B., P. Szolc, uber D. Bonhoeffer in Jednota 25 (1967) 4, S. 8;
Ders., uber A. Schweizer in PP 42 (1968) 1 S. 6-9; 43 (1969) 2, S. i6f.

203) Vgl. z.B., P. Szolc, Sztuka a chrzescijanstwo (Kunst und das Christen¬
tum), PP 43 (1969) 4 S. 41-43; Ders., Boze Narodzenie w sztuce (Weihnachts-
darstellung in der Kunst) PP 43 (1969) 12, S. f., Ders., Das Kunstwerk als
Ausdruck des Gottesglaubens , XIII Congress of the IAHR (Stockholm 1970).

204) Vgl. z.B. P. Szolc, Dwadziesda lat badan qumranskich (20 Jahre Qum-
ranforschung) Jednota 25 (1967) 3, S. 5-7, 17; Ders., Chrzescijanstwo wobec
odkryc nad Morzem Martwym (Die Stellungnahme des Christentums zu den
Entdeckungen am Toten Meer) PP 43 (1969) 3, S. 3off; 4, S. 39ff; 6, S. 68f.

205) Vgl. z.B., P. Szolc, Na tropach pierwszych chrzescijan (Auf dem Weg
der ersten Christen), PP 44 (1970) 4, S. 44-46; 7/8, S. 74-76 (weiter folgt).

GUSTAV MENSCHING SEPTUAGENARIUS

H.-J. KLIMKEIT

Bonn

On May 6, 1971, Gustav Mensching, Professor Emeritus of History
of Religions at Bonn University and author of a long and still growing
list of various studies in Comparative Religion, *) celebrates his
70th birthday. The life and work of the scholar has kept an academic
tradition alive that came into prominence through men like Rudolf Otto
who forcefully challenged the merely historical and rational approach
to religious history. Mensching studied under Otto at Marburg in the
early twenties and earned his doctorate here in 1924. It was, incidentally,
again Marburg that payed tribute to him as a scholar by bestowing upon
him the honorary degree of a Doctor of Religious Sciences (Dr. sc. rel.)
in 1951.

Mensching started his career as a lecturer in the History of Religions
at the Brunswick Institute of Technology near his native Hanover. A
study on Das heilige Schweigen (1926) established his repute, and in
1927 he was called to the State University of Lettland to take the chair
of Religious History there. After teaching at Riga for 8 years he came
to Bonn where, in 1942, he was appointed to the chair of Comparative
Religion previously held by Carl Clemen.

Mensching’s life has been most productive in terms of scholarly
and academic activity. His work in phenomenology is summed up most
comprehensively in the volume Die Religion (1959), and his interest
in sociology of religion is best reflected in the two major volumes
Soziologie der Religion (2nd ed. 1968) and Soziologie der groBen
Religionen (1966). Other books like Toleranz und Wahrheit in der
Religion (1955) and Der Irrtum in der Religion (1969) takes up issues

1) Bibliographies of G. Mensching’s works are to be found in: R. Thomas
(ed.), Religion und Religionen: Festschrift fur Gustav Mensching zu seinem
65. Geburtsdag. Bonn: L. Rohrscheid 1967. (Bibl.: O. Wenig).

G. Mensching, Topos und Typos: Motive und Strukturen religiosen Lebens.
(Essays in Comparative Religion, ed. H.-J. Klimkeit, for the occasion of the
author’s 70th birthday). Bonn: L. Rohrscheid 197J. (Bibl.: U. Vollmer).

Numen XVIII

Klimkeit, Gustav Mensching Septuagenarius

touched upon in earlier works, applying the insights gained there to
the problems addressed here. They represent, so to speak, works of
applied Comparative Religion.

Though Mensching concerns himself, basically, with patterns and
structures, showing up the alternative forms which religion may assume
in its various manifestations, his is not only a phenomenology of reli¬
gion, but also a sociology and typology, and, indeed, first and foremost
a search for religious life in and behind the facts as they present them¬
selves to us historically. In fact the basic elements of his study are live
religious topoi rather than dead bruta facta. The intention is to fathom
the pulsing life here in these symbols of meaning, and then to go
beyond them to the discernment of general types and structures. It
is this fascinating search for the general pattern behind the data viewed
as parts of a living organism that has attracted many a generation of
students to Mensching’s lecture halls. Hence an appreciation of Gustav
Mensching's work in Comparative Religion will not be able to confine
itself to an assessment of his printed books and essays alone but will
also have to take into account the stimulation to further independent
scholarly quest issuing from his academic work as a whole.

SYNCRETISM AND AMBIGUITY

MICHAEL PYE

University of Lancaster, England

Dr. J. H. Kamstra has recently published a lecture about the signifi¬
cance of syncretism for the phenomenology of religion, and its con¬
nection with theology 1 ). His interest in this topic arose out of his
experience of the mutual resistance set up between the syncretistic
Japanese and Christianity, and out of his detailed study of the oldest
case of syncretism in Japan, namely that brought about through the
arrival of Buddhism in that country 2 ). He complains that since the
work of H. Kraemer 3 ), little has been done in the analysis of syn¬
cretism, and that it has been neglected in the general study of religion.
No reference to it is made at all, for example, in the 634 pages of
Geo. Widengren’s recent Religionsphanomenologie 4 ). Moreover most
practitioners of the study of religion are strongly influenced by Chris¬
tianity and tend to see syncretism as an illicit contamination, as a threat
or a danger, as taboo, or as a sign of religious decadence.

Kamstra notes that the word synkretizein was first used by Plutarch
to mean “to come to concord, just as the Cretans do when threatened
by a common enemy” and that Erasmus used it in the sense of recon¬
ciliation. Theologians in the seventeenth century began to use it also
pejoratively. Kamstra himself proposes to use the word to mean: “the
coexistence of elements foreign to each other within a specific religion,
whether or not these elements originate in other religions or for
example in social structures” 5 ). He elaborates the various ways in

1) Kamstra, J. H., Synkretisme op de Grens tussen Theologie en Godsdienst-
fenomenologie, Leiden 1970, E. J. Brill. C.f. a short notice of this same work by
the present writer in Religion: A Journal of Religion and Religions, Vol. I Part
1, Spring 1971.

2) Kamstra, J. H., Encounter or Syncretism; the Initial Growth of Japanese
Buddhism, Leiden 1967, E. J. Brill.

3) Kraemer, H., De Wortelen van het Syncretisme, ’s-Gravenhage 1937.

4) Widengren, Geo, Religionsphdnomenologie, Berlin 1969.

5) Kamstra, Synkretisme, p. 10.

8 4

Michael Pye

which these elements can be related, and then divides his attention
between (i) ‘‘the theological approach to syncretism: the real roots
of syncretism” and (2) “the phenomenological approach to syncretism:
the dynamics of syncretism”.

In the context of theological approaches to syncretism Kamstra pays
special attention to the analysis of Hendrik Kraemer. Kamstra con¬
siders it important to move away from analyses which are theologically
loaded and to move instead to a phenomenological base. His criticism
of Kraemer, with this in view, is particularly illuminating because,
sensing that Kraemer’s analysis was theologically conditioned, he turned
his attention precisely to that religion which Kraemer had claimed was
not in principle syncretistic, namely Kraemer’s own religion, and found
the roots of syncretism there. Or rather, as he further explains, the
roots of syncretism lie neither in the “naturalism”, whether primitive
or monistic, of which Kraemer had spoken in distinction to the
“prophetic” religions, but rather in the very structure of human exist¬
ence. “To be human is to be a syncretist”, he writes 6 ). And by this
he means: “Even a prophet—however filled he may be with the divine—
simply needs the speech and the situation of his audience in order to be
comprehensible at all 7 ).

In the text of his lecture Kamstra appeals to the authority of Paul
to illustrate this point, while in a note thereto he suggests that Buddhism
can provide a helpful nuance in its distinction between samvrti and
paramdrtha satya, i.e. between conventional and absolute truth. It
seems that it would be possible to elaborate Kamstra’s thesis at this
point on a stronger comparative base. Perhaps this should strictly
speaking be done, if what he says is to be allowed to stand as a gener¬
alisation in the study of religion. On the other hand there is little point
in tediously going over what will almost certainly not be seriously
challenged. However I would emphasise briefly that there may be a
slight problem here in that Kamstra’s position could be taken as
representing an alternative theological standpoint to that of Kraemer
with regard to the interpretation of the nature of prophetic religion in
general and the Christian religion in particular. After all, one remem¬
bers that the very title of his fascinating book Encounter or Syncretism
involved the use of a word fashionable in twentieth century Christian

6) Ibid. p. 23.

7) Ibid. pp. 23 f.

Syncretism and ambiguity

theology, even though the book itself dealt with a completely different
area of the history of religion. I do not myself consider that Kamstra’s
analysis of the roots of syncretism does suffer from this defect but it
might have been better to free his analysis from the strains set up by the
fact that it was conceived in reaction to Kraemer’s theologically con¬
ditioned view.

In support of Kamstra at this point, one might add a complementary
voice from a different quarter, namely that of Professor G. Maeda,
who has argued that Christianity is a Mahayanistic ( daijoteki ) reli¬
gion 8 ). By this he meant that it takes in elements foreign to itself and
in this way extends its influence. That Maeda should make this point
and should illustrate it also in the context of Israelite religion in
Canaan, (in spite of the prophetic reaction to which I referred above,
which is really part of the total process), independently strengthens
Kamstra’s contention that syncretisms may be generally discerned also
in those “prophetic” religions thought by Kraemer to be in principle
not syncretistic.

Having freed himself from theology Kamstra goes on to approach
the question of syncretism from a phenomenological point of view.
As a matter of fact, by doing this he opens up a field for a better
understanding of theology and eventually returns to it. While agreeing
that this can be done, my own argument will find it necessary to return
to theology and its equivalents rather sooner, and in this way, I believe,
will reduce the no-man’s-land which Kamstra has left between theology
and phenomenology. As will be seen, the frontier between the two is
perhaps as tight as anywhere when one is considering the nature of
syncretism.

Kamstra finds, as I have found 9 ), that only one author, namely
G. Van Der Leeuw, has dealt to any extent with the question of what
he calls the “dynamics” of religion. He singles out especially Van Der
Leeuw’s conception of “transposition” ( Verschiebung) as a clue on
which to build further. This simply means that religions are changing
all the time, and that therefore the meanings of different elements
within different religions, many of which they borrow from each

8) Maeda, Goro, ‘Nihon no Kirisutokyo’, Shiso, April 1962, pp. 93 ff.

9) Pye, E. M., ‘The Transplantation of Religions', Numen XVI.3, Dec. 1969,
pp. 234 ff. G. Van Der Leeuw, Religions in Essence and Manifestation, London
1938, George Allen and Unwin Ltd., Chapters 93 and 94.

Michael Pye

other, are also likely to change according to the context. Kamstra is
particularly impressed by the fact that very frequently elements con¬
tinue to exist within a religion even though they have really lost their
original meanings, and intriguingly calls this “syncretism from within”.
This syncretism from within is a kind of alienation ( vervreemding)
within a religion with regard to items in its structure which continue
to exist there simply because of their familiarity. I believe Kamstra
has touched here on a kind of religious or spiritual experience which
many have known in modern times, especially in the West with regard
to Christianity but perhaps also in the East with regard to various
traditions, notably Buddhism in Japan. As Kamstra himself says (with
an unfortunate unguarded theological allusion), “Examples of this
syncretism from within are in our time legion”. 10 )

However, it seems to me that it is also at this point that there is a
major error in Kamstra’s argument. He writes, “After all that we have
said, syncretism is therefore also the result of alienation in an existing
religion. This alienation can arise as a result of all kinds of structural
changes. The criterion for syncretism is therefore alienation: something
which either comes in as alien from without or which is alienated from
within—whichever it is” 11 ). I would challenge the view that alienation
is “the criterion” for syncretism of all kinds. Kamstra found he needed
to use the word “alienation” to characterise syncretism from within,
but he has by no means shown that it is an appropriate word to
characterise syncretism from without, which he has now simply slipped
in along with the former. Indeed, fascinating though I find the idea
of syncretism from within, it seems to distort our general vision of
syncretism for two other reasons. Firstly the word “alienation” is
itself unsatisfactory because it is too reminiscent of prophetic religions.
It tends to suggest that we are estranged from that to which we should
turn, we have wandered from our true home, we are cast out from the
Garden of Eden, etc. Secondly, Kamstra is at this point too fascinated
by the idea of “the within” of a religion, too introvert, feeling too
much that religions are declining things being dissolved from within
and attacked from without, no longer sensing the urge which many
religions have to move out and to move on. Hence he sees syncretism
“from without” as indeed a threat to an existing constellation. Why

10) Kamstra, op. cit. p. 27.

11) Ibid. p. 27.

Syncretism and ambiguity

8 7

speak, one may ask, of syncretism “from without”? Why not “towards
without”? If we speak of syncretism as something which can be
“towards without” it cannot be said that alienation is the chief category
for understanding it. It is perhaps not too much to say that Kamstra’s
analysis here, if not theologically conditioned as he had shown Kraemer’s
analysis to be, is at least spiritually conditioned, and that while this leads
to some valuable insights, it also leads to a distortion of the true nature
of syncretism.

Before attempting to grasp the nature of syncretism by another route,
one of the byproducts of Kamstra’s approach is worth noting. This is
that as a result of his emphasis on syncretism “from within” he is able
to recognise a parallel hermeneutical activity in quite diverse traditions.
In any religion considered dynamically syncretisms may be seen to be
in the process of being unmasked and broken off while at the same
time new ones are being built up again. Kamstra says that in this sense
every theologian and every theological faculty moves in a frontier
territory. More significant methodologically however is perhaps the
frontier to which the comparative basis for these remarks leads, not
the frontier of theology with the world, but the frontier between
phenomenology and theology. It would seem that if theology, bud-
dhology and other equivalents, considered as ongoing activities contri¬
buting to the dynamics of their respective religions, can in fact be
studied in parallel or comparative terms, then this opens the way for
a much more precise attempt to indicate the ways in which they operate.
This in turn would lead to the possibility of experts asquiring a grasp
of the principles and variables involved, so that theologians (and their
equivalents) would no longer work on the basis of an intuitive sen¬
sitivity to the strains and stresses and possibilities of their own tradition,
sometimes throwing up an effective new syncretism and more often not.
Rather they would proceed on the basis of a scientific grasp of the
nature of the dynamics of religion, so that while their activity would
still be an imaginative one compared with some activities it could also
be considered as a technological one. Building sacred bridges, or helping
people to recognise them when they appear on the initiative of divinities
(for in phenomenology we dare not beg the question about the divine
initiative), would become analogous to building ordinary bridges (except
with regard to leaving open the matter of divine initiatives). A com¬
parative and phenomenological study of the dynamics of religion, with

Michael Pye

special reference to the hermeneutical activities of individuals acting
with varying degrees of self-consciousness, would therefore become
part of the fundamental equipment of any would-be theologian or
buddhologian. Indeed insofar as technological know-how indicates the
viability of various options open to the engineer, the phenomenology
of religion would begin to put pressure on its frontiers with theology,
by no means necessarily with a deleterious effect. However this is not
the place to begin to develop such a comparative science of hermeneu¬
tics. 12 ) It is necessary for the time being to return to the specific
problem of syncretism.

As I said above, it is necessary to return to theology and its equi¬
valents rather sooner than Kamstra does, in order even to understand
the nature of syncretism. Note however that we do not turn to theology
in a concealed way. Nor should we be swayed by sensitivity to one
religious situation. It is necessary to turn to theology and its equivalents
comparatively and hence phenomenologically (since one cannot be a
committed exponent of all the equivalents at once), in order to approach
the meanings of syncretism. The meaning, if there is a meaning, can
only be found through the meanings. Here therefore theology and its
equivalents put pressure on phenomenology. Indeed if some few of
the equivalents are thought to be particularly helpful in elucidating the
meaning of syncretism, the pressure of those equivalents will be par¬
ticularly strong, and care 'should be taken to see that the presuppositions
of no one religious tradition distorts our view even when it is not our
own religious tradition. Although Kamstra is very interested in the
meanings of syncretistic situations, his definition of syncretism quoted
above contains no reference, direct or indirect, to meanings. This can
be rectified, but it should be done in such a way that no one religion
is called upon to supply the meaning. I hope to indicate that meanings
can be referred to in an indirect and neutral way, such that the general
theory of syncretism points back again for its specific meaning to
specific cases.

12) Such a comparative approach to hermeneutics really needs a much wider
basis than that offered by an examination of syncretism alone. It would also
have to consider at least the manner in which religious traditions reassert them¬
selves in intolerably ambiguous situations (c.f. my article referred to above),
and further the nature of the criteria applied in various religions in the definition
or redefinition of the “essence” ( hridaya ) of their respective traditions. This of
course raises hosts of theological problems, and their equivalents!

Syncretism and ambiguity

A further curiosity of Kamstra’s definition of syncretism is that it
also contains no reference at all to one of his other main concerns.
Again and again he emphasises the importance of the dynamics of
religion, but this does not appear to have influenced his formulation
in any noticeable way. This is a second point to which attention will be
paid below.

It is on the notion of the coexistence of elements foreign to each
other that we must build. As a clear case of syncretism I should like to
refer to the relations between Buddhism and Shinto, especially as
developed under the influence of the theory of honji-suijaku. These
relationships have been referred to in various publications and have
been examined in detail recently by Alicia Matsunaga 13 ). It is inter¬
esting that this writer traces the Buddhist ideas underlying this theory
back to the Chinese Buddhist distinction between pen and chi and
thence to the Indian Buddhist distinction between samvrti and para-
indrtha satya, referred to earlier. I think it would be generally agreed
that the relations in question are a clear case of syncretism in that they
obviously involve the coexistence of elements foreign to each other in
a single religious context.

We must now approach the matter of the meanings. For the
Buddhist the meaning was that in the form of a local divinity
(kami ) there was latently present the being of a Bodhisattva or a
Buddha. Thus the kami Omiya was considered to be a manifestation
of Shakyamuni, the kami Hachiman was sometimes considered a
manifestation of Amida, etc. In this way existing focal points of
religious devotion were drawn into a syncretistic field and interpreted
in terms of Buddhist meaning. It appears from the Shinto side that
the movement into syncretism may at first have been one of self-
defence, in that the alternative to accommodation would have been the
extinction of Shinto meanings altogether 14 ). However that may be,
there is no doubt that in this way Shinto meanings were able to persist,
and in due course there came the Shinto reaction known as han-honji-
suijaku, i.e., honji-suijaku in reverse, in terms of which the Buddhist

13) Matsunaga, Alicia, The Buddhist Philosophy of Assimilation. The Historical
Development of the Honji-Suijaku Theory, Tokyo and Rutland Vermont 1969,
Sophia University and Charles E. Tuttle Co.

14) Eliot, Sir George, Japanese Buddhism, London 1959, Routledge and Kegan

Paul, p. 243.

Michael Pye

meanings were treated as but superficial manifestations of the pro-
founder Shinto kami. The point about all this is that the elements under
consideration became ambiguous. They were able to bear two distinct
meanings depending on the different points of view of the people
involved with them. These meanings were tussled over again and again,
and it is a mark of the resilience of the Shinto religion that its kami
were not after all completely assimilated. Syncretistic tension continued
to be felt until there was a remarkable attempt at recoupment from the
Shinto side. It is important not to allow either one of the two possible
meanings of a symbol being used in honji-suijaku terms to overwhelm
the phenomenological approach to syncretism. Of course it is the
meanings which matter, but we can neutrally seize the importance of
the various meanings here by recognizing the ambiguity of the situation.

It should not be thought that this type of relationship between Bud¬
dhism and Shinto can be observed only in cases where the theory of
honji-suijaku can be applied. Consider for example the story of the
visit of the monk Gedatsu to the Grand Shrine of Ise, as told in the
Taiheiki :

“Once this holy man went to the Grand Shrine of Ise to worship at the
Outer and Inner Shrines and speak secretly of the delights of complete
response to the teachings of Buddhism. These shrines are not as other shrines,
for their bargeboards are not curved, nor do their pointed boards bend back¬
ward. Wherefore it seemed to Gedatsu that they were as ‘the straight way
that rejects what is roundabout’. And beholding the ancient pines lowering
their branches and the old trees spreading out their leaves, he likened them
to bodhisattvas descending from heaven to save living things here below.
Although the names of the Three Treasures of Buddhism may not be spoken
here, he thought weeping, yet in this way too men may reach salvation.” 15 )

Or consider the following spell used by yamabushi to exorcise the
malevolent influence of the god Konjin over certain quarters of the
compass.

“Because of ignorance the three worlds are a prison,

Because of enlightenment the ten directions are free.

In truth there is neither East nor West,

Where then are South and North?” 16 )

15) McCullough, Helen, The Taiheiki, A Chronicle of Medieval Japan , New
York 1959, Columbia University Press, p. 368.

16) Renondeau, G., Le Shugendo: Histoire, Doctrine et Rites des Anachoretes
dits Yamabushi (Cahiers de la Societe Asiatique, 8), Paris 1964, Imprimerie
Nationale, p. 140.

Syncretism and ambiguity

This spell clearly operates on two quite distinct levels or in two
quite distinct spheres of meaning. Moreover the two spheres of meaning
are mutually exclusive. If one really believes that the exorcism is
desirable or necessary one clearly has not yet reached the point of
insight into the nature of phenomena to which Buddhist philosophy
tends. Yet the spell makes use of Buddhism to allay fear. Conversely if
one takes the Buddhist analysis to heart the spell becomes redundant.
Yet the two are coexisting in a single religious pattern even while the
ambiguity shows signs of being intolerable.

Nor is the relevance of this analysis restricted to the Buddhist-Shinto
situation. The transpositions referred to by Van Der Leeuw and by
Kamstra all display this character of ambiguity. They all refer to
elements within a coherent religious pattern around which pivot two or
more sets of meanings. Again, the notion of ambiguity does not restrict
us either to what Kamstra would call “syncretism from without”, which
is what the cases we have examined are. It is equally crucial, and is
equally neutral with regard to particular meanings (unlike the loaded
word “alienation”), in the context of “syncretism from within”, where
the circles of meaning turning around particular elements in a tradition
sometimes seem to move and slide like shifting sand, so that the specific
elements themselves are ambiguous.

To take ambiguity as the main characteristic of syncretism is con¬
sistent also with Kamstra’s view that it stems from man's very nature
in the sense that each man is a limited being unable to grasp the revela¬
tion of the divine or the ultimate truth except in so far as this or these
are refracted in terms of his own situation. Every constitutive element
in a given religious pattern is ambiguous, one might say, in that it has
a meaning at one and the same time both in the general situation of the
man to whom it is meaningful and in the symbolic context which bears
the revelation of the religion in question. However, while the nature
of syncretism is clearly to be found in the nature of religion in general
and the nature of religion in the nature of man, I would prefer to
continue to speak more specifically about ambiguity as the keynote of
syncretism, that is, in connection with the relationship between elements
originally foreign to each other and (to accept Kamstra's theory of syn¬
cretism from within) elements becoming foreign to each other, in
religious situations.

If ambiguity may be taken as the keynote of syncretism of all kinds,

9 2

Michael Pye

it is necessary now to emphasise that this is to be understood dynam¬
ically. Syncretism, as the coexistence of elements of diverse origin inter¬
acting ambiguously, is a natural moving aspect of major religious tra¬
ditions such as Buddhism, Shinto, Christianity, and indeed, I would
venture to suggest, of all religious traditions. It is part of the dynamics
of religion which works its way along in the ongoing transplantation
of these religious traditions from one cultural context to another
whether geographically or in time, while their more or less sophisticated
adherents are more or less aware of what is going on. But since the
traditions are moving all the time, and since the meanings are continually
being refashioned, any particular case of syncretism is necessarily
temporary. The ambiguous clash of meanings demands some resolution
and even if this is not forthcoming immediately the demand is still there
inherent in the relationship. Three resolutions seem to be possible in
practice as in logic, apart from a postponement of any resolution. The
first is the extension of one meaning to the point of the effective
elimination of the other, in which case we may speak of assimilation.
The second is the fusion of the diverse elements such that while a single
coherent pattern of meaning has been attained that pattern is so dif¬
ferent from any of the patterns hitherto available that a new religion
may be deemed to have emerged. The third is the drifting apart of the
two meanings, in which case we may speak of dissolution. These three
forms of resolution are all possible whether we consider syncretism
from (or towards) without or syncretism from within; although usually
syncretism from without will probably make us think more often of
the assimilation of an existing religious pattern while syncretism from
within will make us think more often of the dissolution of an existing
religious pattern. It would be interesting to analyse the emergence of
a new religion in terms of its dependence on syncretism from without
and from within preceding religious traditions respectively. (Kamstra
refers briefly to some new religions in the context of the latter.) It
should be noted further that there i's a certain amount of tension
between individuals and groups over all this. An ambiguous syn-
cretistic situation may be resolved in terms of one meaning or other for
an individual or even a series of individuals, even though the syncretism
persists long after as a wider cultural phenomenon offering its various
possibilities to further individuals. This is why syncretistic situations
may persist for a long time and even indefinitely, even though they

Syncretism and ambiguity

are as explained above, intrinsically temporary. It would be quite
wrong to call them permanent. To describe them as temporary is to in¬
dicate that they are situations of tension (whatever the various protag¬
onists may say about harmony, toleration, etc!) and that they are to
be understood entirely in terms of the dynamics of religion.

To emphasise tension as I have done should not be taken as an
invitation to conclude that syncretism is altogether incoherent. A syn-
cretistic situation is coherent even while demanding resolution in that
there are variously coherent meanings for the various people involved,
and also, for the phenomenologist of religion, in the sense that it is
a collection of events in the history of religion which have a recognisably
coherent structure. Finally I would agree with Kamstra that the elements
involved in a syncretistic religious situation need not necessarily be
themselves all of religious origin but may include political, philosophical
and other secular elements of all kinds.

For the above reasons I would define syncretism as the temporary
ambiguous coexistence of elements from diverse religious and other
contexts within a coherent religious pattern.

DER HOCHGOTT UND DER MIKROKOSMISCHE

MENSCH

VON

K. A. H. HIDDING

Leiden

Ehe wir die Beziehung zwischen Hochgott und mikrokosmischen
Menschen untersuchen konnen, miissen wir zunachst unsere Auf-
fassung vom Hochgott genau prazisieren. Drei Gelehrte haben in dieser
Hinsicht in der ersten Halfte dieses Jahrhunderts wichtige Forschung
geleistet, und zwar Pater W. Schmidt, K. Th. Preuss und R. Pet-
tazzoni 1 ). Die Auffassung von Schmidt, der im Hochgott den einen
und einzigen Gott der monotheistischen Religion sah, gilt nun wohl als
iiberwunden. Schmidt entmythologisierte diese hochsten Wesen und
gab ihnen einen derart transzendenten und geistigen Charakter, sodass
seine Theorie nicht der Wirklichkeit entsprach und nun von fast nie-
mandem mehr geteilt wird.

Dies kann man nicht von den Auffassungen von Preuss und Pet-
tazzoni sagen, die sich zwar stark voneinander unterscheiden, aber
vor allem einander erganzen und beide den kosmischen Character
dieses Hochgottes betonen. Preuss bezeichnet ihn sogar als kosmische
Totalitat, als das Wesen, das der Ursprung der Wirklichkeit ist und
diese in ihrer Existenz erhalt. Er gibt dem Menschen den Lebensunter-
halt und den Kultus, wodurch zugleich die kosmische Ordnung als eine
Verkorperung des Hochgottes selbst erhalten wird. Preuss sieht einen
direkten Zusammenhang zwischen den Begriffen Totalitat, Ordnung
und Kultus und dem Hochgott, der auch engstens mit dem Himmel
zusammenhangt.

Pettazzoni hat vor allem stark die Beziehung des Hochgottes mit dem
Himmel betont, der alles und also auch die niederen gottlichen und
damonischen Machte begrenzt, umfasst und zusammenhalt. Um dies
zu verdeutlichen, konnen wir den Himmel am besten als Symbol des

i) P. W. Schmidt, Ursprung und IVerden der Religion, Munster, 1930. K. Th.
Preuss, Die geistige Kultur der Naturvolker , Leipzig, 1932, idem, Glauben und
Mystik im Schatten des hochsten Wcsens, Leipzig, 1926. R. Pettazzoni, The
All-knowing God, London, 1956.

Der Hochgott und der mikrokosmische Mensch

Hochgottes bezeichnen, sei es auch, dass man in den betreffenden
Kulturen unseren Begriff Symbol nicht kennt, auf den wir aber als
Hilfsvorstellung nicht verzichten konnen. Im Himmel offenbart sich
der Hochgott, sodass dieser ihn reprasentiert und der Glaubige ihn darin
erblickt. Er kann damit identisch sein, darin wohnen oder auf andere
Weise damit verbunden sein, aber in der ganzen Welt erfahrt der
Mensch das Bild des Himmels, der ihm Licht und Luft, Warme und
Regen und noch so vieles Andere schenkt, das fur alles Dasein unent-
behrlich ist, als eine gottliche Offenbarung. Es sind jedoch nicht allein
diese naturlichen Gaben, sondern es ist vor allem auch der geistige
Aspekt des Himmels, der den Menschen beeindruckt hat. Hierauf kon-
zentriert Pettazzoni sein ganzes Interesse.

Der Himmel selbst wird, auch wieder in unserer Terminologie, als
ein personliches Wesen betrachtet, der alles sieht und auf Grund hiervon
strafend eingreift, wenn der Mensch bestimmte Ubertretungen begeht.
Das schliesst nicht ein, dass man von diesem Hochgott eine antropo-
morphe Vorstellung haben muss, aber man erfahrt den Himmel selbst
als etwas Personliches, und also als allwissend und wollend. Fur uns,
die wir dem Menschen als korperlich-geistige Einheit solch eine beson-
dere Stelle im Kosmos zuschreiben, ist dies nicht einfach zu verstehen,
aber wir miissen auf grund vieler Einzelheiten annehmen, dass der
Himmel als Symbol des Hochgottes alles weiss, sieht und hort. Es geht
hier vor allem um den Menschen, der durch sein Verhalten die kos-
mische Ordnung stort, die die Totalitat von Himmel und Erde nicht
allein konstituiert, sondern mit dem Hochgott sogar identisch ist. Er
offenbart sich vor allem hierin und macht dadurch alles Dasein mog-
lich. Gott ist immer und uberall das Mysterium der Welt, an das der
Mensch glaubt und das er indirekt durch seine Offenbarung als ein
Wunder erfahrt. Und diese Offenbarung empfangt er in den hier
gemeinten Religionen durch „die Anschauung des Universums”, um
mit einem Terminus von Schleiermacher zu sprechen.

Dies bedeutet in erster Linie, dass der Mensch die Welt, in der er
wohnt, als eine durch ihren immer weiter zuriickweichenden Horizont
begrenzt wahrnimmt, die auch ihn umfasst und in sich birgt. Er weiss
sich hiervon vollig abhangig und er sieht sie als eine personliche Grosse,
einen Makroanthropos, der sein Leben nicht allein schiitzt, sondern
auch alles von ihm weiss und ihn, wenn es notig ist, fur seine Uber¬
tretungen bestraft, die die Gesamtordnung bedrohen. Denn diese ist

K. A. H. Ridding

selbst die letzte Wahrheit von allem Dasein, die das Fortbestehen
davon gewahrleistet und das hochste Gut ist, dass dem Menschen
bekannt ist.

Der Mensch weiss, sehr oft durch eine Offenbarung des Hoch-
gottes selbst, der einstmal in der Vorzeit einen Abgesandten zur Erde
schickte, um ihn die Kultur zu lehren, wie er sich in jeder Hinsicht,
individuell und sozial, zu verhalten hat, und dies ist in der Adat der
Gemeinschaft festgelegt. Sundigt er dagegen, dann stort er nicht nur
den guten Verlauf innerhalb seiner Gemeinschaft, sondern auch den
des Kosmos selbst, sodass hieraus allerlei Katastrophen entstehen:
fiberschwemmungen, Brande, Krankheiten, Stiirme usw., die die ge-
samte Gemeinschaft bedrohen. Wenn der Hochgott verstimmt wird
durch schlechtes Betragen des Menschen, dann bedeutet dies zugleich
die Storung der kosmischen Ordnung, sodass allerlei chaotisch-kos-
mische Machte die Moglichkeit erhalten, in die Welt einzugreifen. Denn
zur Totalitat gehoren auch Chaos und Unheil, durch deren Uberwindung
einstmals die Ordnung erkampft wurde, wie der Schopfungsmythus
berichtet. Das Chaos ist ebenso unverganglich wie die Ordnung und
es muss irnmer aufs neue in seine Schranken zuriickverwiesen werden,
nicht zuletzt durch ein gutes Verhalten des Menschen, was aus seinem
Gehorsam gegeniiber seinen Pflichten besteht, die auch kultischer Art
sind. Auch hierdurch wirkt er von seiner Seite und fur seinen Teil
mit, das kosmische Gleichgewicht zu erhalten.

Die Tatsache, dass man den Hochgott als einen Makroanthropos
auffasst, bedeutet keineswegs, dass eine solche Auffassung als eine
menschliche Projektion irreal ware. Fur seine Existenz ist der Mensch
tatsachlich vollig abhangig vom Kosmos und es ist nicht weniger wahr,
dass er standig durch Katastrophen und Krankheiten iiberfallen wird,
die er mit von ihm begangenen Ubertretungen in Zusammenhang
bringt. Bei einer solchen personlichen Beziehung zum Kosmos als
Hochgott muss man den Menschen als Mikrokosmos betrachten, primar
aber ist die Auffassung von dem Kosmos als Makroanthropos. Es ist
bekannt, auf welche Weise in vielen Kulturen die Auffassung von dem
Menschen als Mikrokosmos bis in Einzelheiten in vielerlei Analogien
ausgebildet worden ist, leider fehlt bisher eine umfassende mono-
graphische Untersuchung liber dieses Thema 2 ). Die Idee, dass die

2) Fiir das indo-europaische Gebiet: Geo Widengren, Iranische Geisteswelt,
Baden-Baden, 1961, idem, Religionsphdnomenologie, Berlin, 1969. A. Olerud,

Der Hochgott und der mikrokosmische Mensch

Welt und der Mensch die gleiche totalitare und im Wesen unvergang-
liche Struktur zeigen und die gleiche natiirlich-geistige Einheit dar-
stellen, ist jedoch, wie uberall auf der Erde sich zeigt, universell ver-
breitet. Der Hochgott ist die natiirlich-geistige Totalitat, die der Mensch
erkennen kann, weil er dies auf seine Weise auch selbst ist, wie letztlich
jede Erscheinung als Teil des Ganzen hierdurch wesentlich bestimmt
wird. Alles hat darum auch seine geistigen Aspekte, wodurch es sich
dem Menschen zu erkennen gibt, der es benennen und eine bestimmte
Beziehung damit herstellen kann. Dieser Aspekt offenbart sich in der
ausserlichen Erscheinung, in dem Bild von jeder Erscheinung, wodurch
man es kennen lernen und von anderen unterscheiden kann. Das Unter-
scheidungsvermogen beruht auf der wesentlichen Verwandtschaft aller
Erscheinungen, die die Totalitat ausmachen. Die diese instandhaltende
wirksame Ordnung bestimmt die Art, das Bild und das Schicksal von
allem, was existiert, und hierauf beruht die Einsicht des Menschen in
die Welt und sein Einfluss auf sie, der etwa in der Zeichendeutung
und der Magie zum Ausdruck kommt, wie auch in der hier geltende
Auffassung der Medizin. Weil der Mensch am Kosmos partizipiert,
kann er alle Erscheinungen perzipieren; er steht ihnen aufgeschlossen
gegenuber und kann sie in sich aufnehmen, reflektieren und dadurch
kennenlernen, als mit ihnen wesentlich verwandt. Wo er sich selbst als
eine mikrokosmische Erscheinung auffasst, findet diese Auffassung
ihren Grund in seiner Wahrnehmung von der Welt als einem mit ihm
selbst verwandten Makroanthropos, weil sie an der gleichen naturlich-
geistigen Ordnung teilhaben und als zeit-raumliche Erscheinungen eine
gleiche Struktur zeigen. Er ist dann auch selbst unverganglich bei alien
Veranderungen, wie die universell verbreitete Auffassung von der so-
genannten doppelten Seele zeigt.

Man kann dies auch in moderne wissenschaftliche Sprache aus-
driicken, wenn man etwa mit Piaget die Struktur definiert als eine
Totalitat, ein in sich selbst geschlossenes, sich selbst regulierendes
Transformationssystem, das sich selbst erhalt 3 ). Wird in unserem
Fall die Ordnung in der Totalitat, die der Hochgott ist, gestort, dann

L’idee de macro cosmos et de microcosmos dans le Timee de Platon, Uppsala, 1951.
Fur Afrika: Germaine Dieterlen, Essai sur la Religion Bambara, Paris, 1951.
Fur Indonesien: Ph. L. Tobing, The structure of the Toba-Batak belief in the
High God , Amsterdam, 1956.

3) J. Piaget, Le Structuralisme, Paris, 1968.

Numen XVIII

9 8

K. A. H. Hidding

weiss er das und reagiert mit kosmischen Strafen als ein Zeichen, dass
das Chaos gleichsam ausgebrochen ist. Dann muss auch der Mensch
reagieren, nicht allein dadurch, dass der Ubeltater bestraft wird, sondern
vor allem durch kultische Massnahmen, die die Wiederherstellung der
Ordnung und die Zuriickkehr des Friedens und der Harmonie bewerk-
stelligen mussen. Die chaotischen Machte, die sich in Krankheiten und
auf vielerlei andere Weisen offenbaren, werden hierdurch wieder auf
ihre Stelle im kosmischen Ganzen zuruckgedrangt.

Der Hochgott ist identisch mit der Welt als ein transformatorisches
und sichselbst regulierendes System, das sich als eine lebendige Tota¬
litat immer in einem labilen Gleichgewicht befindet. Als kosmische
Ordnung ist der Hochgott nicht allein statisch und otios, deus otiosus,
sondern zugleich dynamisch und beweglich, weil jede Totalitat eine Ein-
heit von Gegensatzen ist. Zur Totalitat gehort sowohl das Naturliche
wie das Geistige, eine Auffassung, die wir auch im heutigen Denken
finden, etwa bei dem Ontologen N. Hartmann mit seiner Schichten-
theorie, bei der das Reich des Geistes die hochste Schicht ist, oder bei
Teilhard de Chardin, bei dem die verschiedenen Spharen in der
Noosphare ihre Kronung finden. Solch ein Zusammenhang des Natur-
lichen und des Geistigen innerhalb der alles umfassenden Totalitat des
Seins beweist, dass hier das Bewustsein als eine bestimmte, hoch diffe-
renzierte Weise von Sein aufgefasst wird, sodass zwischen dem Mate-
riellen und dem Geistigen nur ein gradueller Unterschied besteht 4 ).

Die so weit verbreitete Auffassung vom Gottesurteil beweist auch,
dass man in diesen Kulturen den Kosmos personlich auffasst. Ent-
stehen Katastrophen und vermutet man, dass diese die Folge von be-
stimmten Ubertretungen sind, dann kann man den Beschuldigten einem
Gottesurteil unterwerfen, sodass z.B. das Wasser, die Erde oder das
Feuer als die Reprasentanten des Hochgottes das entscheidende Urteil
fallen, ob er sterben muss oder nicht. Der Unschuldige wird durch die
Wahrheit bewahrt und geschutzt, wie z.B. der Chandogya Upanisjad
(VI, 16) sagt, sodass diese nicht allein geistig, sondern auch materiell
anerkannt wird.

Auf ihre Weise zeugen Erscheinungen wie Astrologie und Wahr-
sagekunst vom kosmischen Gemeinschaftsgefuhl und religiosen Natur-
gefiihl dieser Glaubigen an eine allesumfassende und verbindende hei-

4) N. Hartmann, Neue Wege der Ontologie, Stuttgart, 1949. P. Teilhard de
Chardin, Le Phenomene humain, Paris.

Der Hochgott und der mikrokosmische Mensch

lige Ordnung. Dadurch, dass auf bestimmte Erscheinungen geachtet
wird, gelangt man zu einem Wissen iiber die giinstige beziehungsweise
ungiinstige Art der Situation, in der sich ein Mensch befindet, der ein
wichtiges Unternehmen beginnen will. Es ist dabei gleichgultig, ob man
dies aus der Konstellation am Himmel oder von der Zeichnung der
Leber eines Opfertieres abliest, oder ob man zu solch einer Erkenntnis
durch komplizierte Berechnungen kommt. In alien Fallen geht es um
die der kosmischen Ordnung inharente Wahrheit, die allein den Men-
schen und seine Gemeinschaft vor Katastrophen bewahren kann.

Hieran wirkt er auch durch seinen Kultus mit. Er stellt etwa im Um-
gang und im Opfer das Mysterium von allem Dasein dar, in dem immer
wieder das Licht und das Leben ihren Durchgang durch die Finsternis
und den Tod vollbringen, um aufs neue auferstehen zu konnen. Auch
das Bewusstsein von der Unentbehrlichkeit der Reziprozitat bringt er
zum Ausdruck, weil nur hierdurch die Integritat der Totalitat erhalten
bleiben kann. Hierin darf kein Teil fur sich selbst bleiben, sondern er
muss immer als funktioneller Teil vom Ganzen wirken. Die intuitive
Erkenntnis dieser Notwendigkeit bringt den Menschen beim Opfer
dazu, Gott dasjenige zuriickzugeben, was er von ihm selbst empfangen
hat, und nur durch solch eine Gegenseitigkeit kann die kosmische Ord¬
nung erhalten bleiben als die letzte Wahrheit aller Existenz, wie viele
Mythen beweisen. Wo der Hochgott mit der kosmischen Ordnung iden-
tisch ist als das Wesen der Wirklichkeit, ist in letzter Instanz jede
Erscheinung auf ihre Weise eine mikrokosmische Totalitat als imago
mundi, in der sich das Universum spiegelt. Spezial dasjenige, was als
heilig gilt, zeigt diesen totalitaren Charakter: ein Baum, oft zugleich
Lebensbaum und Baum der Erkenntnis, Tempel, Palast, Stadt, Land,
Dorf, Fiirst, Berg und Volk, sie konnen alle als Abbildungen, Zentren
oder Reprasentanten des Heiligen funktionieren und hierdurch eine
heilsame Wirksung ausiiben. Und der Mensch selbst bringt dadurch
in seine Welt Ordnung, dass er sich in seinem klassifikatorischen Den-
ken kosmischer Einteilungskategorien bedient wie Himmel und Erde,
Land und See, Windrichtungen, Geschlechter, bestimmte Farben oder
Tiere und so viel anderes, worunter man alle anderen Arten von Er¬
scheinungen rubriziert. Alles Denken ist ordnen und ubersichtlich
machen, und zu dieser Absicht verwendet der Mensch in diesen Kul-
turen die eben genannten oder andere Teile seiner Welt, die man
in der Totalitat des Kosmos unterscheiden kann. Hierauf beruht die

IOO

K. A. H. Hidding

Wissenschaft sowohl von der Wahrsagekunst, wie der Magie und der
Medizin, aber auch die oft so differenzierte soziale Organisation und
Heiratsregelung, und schliesslich die gesamte Kultur als Schopfung des
menschlichen Geistes, der durch diese Sicht seine Struktur empfangt.

Diese Sicht auf die Dinge ist die der Wahrnehmung oder Anschau-
ung, wozu der Mensch dank der Sinneswerkzeuge seines Korpers fahig
ist. Durch diesen Korper ist er eine Erscheinung neben alien anderen
Erscheinungen in der Welt, an der er partizipiert, und gerade auf die
grosse Bedeutung hiervon ist in letzter Zeit vor allem durch Phanomeno-
logen wie Merleau-Ponty und Erwin Strauss, mit sehr viel Nachdruck
hingewiesen worden 5 ). Dass der Mensch Teil ist von und Teil hat und
nimmt an der Welt und diese erkennen kann, beruht also auf der Tat-
sache, dass er ihr immanent und verwandt ist. Was dies bedeutet, kann
man allein verstehen, wenn man die unlosbare Beziehung zwischen
der Immanenz und ihrem Gegenteil, der Transzendenz, im Auge behalt,
die sich gegenseitig voraussetzen. Man kann allein etwas transzen-
dieren, wenn man am Zusammenhang mit der Wirklichkeit festhalt,
wie ja auch der Astronaut tut, der an die Erde gebunden bleibt durch
das irdische Material seiner Rakete und den Sauerstoff, den er mit-
nimmt. Umgekehrt weiss man nur dann etwas von seiner Immanenz,
wenn man nicht in ihr befangen bleibt, sondern sie transzendiert. Es
handelt sich hierbei um relative Begriffe, sodass der Mensch auf eine
dominierende Weise als bewusstes Wesen die Wirklichkeit mehr oder
weniger transzendiert oder im starken Masse an sie gebunden bleibt.
Hat das Bewusstsein der Immanenz das Ubergewicht im Denken, dann
vollzieht sich dies in der Anschauung oder Wahrnehmung, die ihn in
eine direkte Beziehung mit der Welt bringt, die er erkennt, weil sie sich
in ihrer Erscheinungsform ihm zu erkennen gibt. Aber dominiert das
Bewusstsein, dass er sich liber die Welt erheben kann, dann bedeutet
dies, dass er in einer grosseren Freiheit gegeniiber und fiber der gleichen
Wirklichkeit steht, liber die er in Worten und Begriffen sprechen und
urteilen kann. Dieses Urteil best er nicht von den Bildern der Erschei¬
nungen ab, sondern er bildet es selbst durch die Moglichkeit, abstrakt
denken zu konnen, d.h. mit Begriffen, die er sich durch das Abstra-
hieren von dem wahrgenommenen Bilde schafft. Auf Grund dieser
und gebunden an diese direkte Wahrnehmung, die er in seiner Freiheit

5) M. Merleau-Ponty, Phenomenologie de la perception , Paris, 1954. E. Strauss,
Vom Sinn der Sinne, Berlin, 1956.

Der Hochgott und der mikrokosmische Mensch

IOI

trotzdem transzendiert, erwirbt er sich auf indirektem Weg eine Er-
kenntnis der Wirklichkeit, die viel weiter geht als die Wahrnehmung,
und ihm viel mehr Macht iiber sie gibt. Auch hier gilt, dass das abstrakte
und transzendierende Denken gebunden bleibt an das Immanente und
Konkrete, das Wahrnehmung heisst, und das dem Menschen ebenfalls
Erkenntnis seiner Welt ermoglicht. Sei es auch, dass dieses vielmehr
koordinierend vorgeht und das abstrakte Denken uberwiegend sub-
ordinierend — mit alien Folgen davon.

Dieser Exkurs war notig, um den mikrokosmischen Menschen und
sein wahrnehmendes Denken an seinem in der Geschichte entstandenen
Gegensatz zu verdeutlichen: der Mensch als Subjekt, der die Welt als
sein sekularisiertes Objekt erlebt, und der sich also selbst im ganzen
nicht mehr als wesentlich verwandt mit dem Kosmos als Makroan-
thropos sieht. Diese Menschen finden wir in den monotheistischen
Religionen, bei denen die Vorstellung vorherrscht, dass Gott die Welt
als ihm wesensfremd aus dem Nichts erschafft, und dem Menschen
in ihr eine besondere Stelle zuerkennt, weil allein er auf seine Weise
ein geistiges Wesen ist. Gott transzendiert hier auf absolute Weise die
Welt, so wie der Mensch dies auf eine relative tut, aber beide sind
der Welt entfremdet. Wo der Mensch Gott als die heilige Totalitat
und die Ordnung des Ganzen sieht, weiss er sich selbst als Mikrokosmos,
aber wenn er ihn als den transzendenten Schopfer erfahrt, fur den alles
Objekt ist, dann erkennt er sich selbst als ein Subjekt gegeniiber der
Welt und ein Objekt vor Gott. Auch hier gilt ein solcher Gegensatz nie
im absoluten Sinne, weil auch Mikrokosmos und Subjekt aufeinander
angewiesen sind, wie auch die hiermit unmittelbar zusammenhangende
uberwiegend monistische Auffassung vom Hochgott als dem Prinzip
des Kosmos und die dualistischere vom Creator ex nihilo. Beide Auf-
fassungen zeigen, dass Gott selbst fur den Menschen ein Mysterium
ist und bleibt, und dass alle Unterschiede in der Auffassung zu den so
verschiedenen Erscheinungen zuriickzufiihren sind, die der Mensch
in seiner Religion und Kultur als Offenbarungsmittel von Gott erfahrt
und anerkennt. In der direkten Wahrnehmung ist dies das Bild von der
autonomen, heiligen Welt und im Denken iiber diese Welt ist es Gottes
Wort, das einstmals diese vergangliche und endliche Welt ins Dasein
rief.

Auch Bild und Wort schliessen sich keineswegs gegenseitig aus,
sondern sie erganzen sich wie das beim Sehen eines Bildes und beim

102

Hidding, Der Hochyott und der mikrokosmische Mensch

Horen und Begreifen eines Wortes geschieht beim Konstituieren des
menschlichen Bewusstseins. Beide, Sehen und Horen, konnen den
Menschen vom Bewusstsein erfullen, dass er gegeniiber einer Aporia,
einem Wunder steht, das er nicht zu erklaren, sondern lediglich hin-
zunehmen hat als den unerforschlichen und unerschopflichen Grund
aller Wirklichkeit. Diese lasst sich innerhalb ihrer Einheit von Raum
und Zeit wahrnehmen und untersuchen, aber fragen wir, was Raum und
Zeit als die Konstituanten der Wirklichkeit an sich sind, dann fehlt
jede Moglichkeit einer Antwort, die selbst vollig abhangig ist von dieser
Einheit, die auch der Mensch selbst ist 6 ). Ob man die Welt als eine
aus sich selbst bestehende und sich selbst erhaltende unendliche Struk-
tur sieht, wie der an den Hochgott glaubende dies auf seine Manier und
die moderne Wissenschaft auf die ihre tut, oder dass man sie als eine
endliche und abhangige Welt betrachtet, wie es die Dogmen der mono-
theistischen Religion lehren, in beiden Fallen ist das Bewusstsein, vor
einem Wunder zu stehen, die letzte Einsicht. Und ein Wunder ist, um
wieder mit Schleiermacher zu sprechen, nichts als der religiose Name
fur das Geschehen, das schliesslich Mysterium ist und bleibt.

6) K. A. H. Hidding, „Sehen und Horen”, in: Liber Amicorum, Studies in
honour of Prof. dr. C. J. Bleeker, Leiden, 1969.

RELIGIO, PRIESTHOODS AND MAGISTRACIES

IN THE ROMAN REPUBLIC

GEORGE J. SZEMLER

Chicago, U.S.A.

In Roman history, the functions of the state cult were inseparably
connected with affairs of the state. A glance at available data indicates
that administration of the cults was always in the hands of the governing
circles. The magistrates, who celebrated the great games for the gods,
also performed the sacrifices and took the auspicia, while at the same
time a great number of them served as members of priestly colleges.
Although magisterial and priestly functions were separated from each
other and did not overstep the boundaries of established spheres of
action, the two seemed to interact in the careers of priests whose mem¬
bership can be proved. The priests belonged to the same classes to
which those individuals belonged who were contending year after year
for the magistracies and often held them. They continued to be members
of the great consular families. Novi homines seldom achieved priest¬
hoods or consulships.

There are a number of works in which priests were treated L. Mercklin 1 )
presented a list of pontifices and augures, utilized by Mommsen, 2 ) who included
also Mercklin’s list of Xviri. 3 ) In 1871, C. Bardt compiled the membership of the
major colleges during the Republic, to the death of Caesar. 4 ) He presented evidence
for the individual priests and attempted to establish by conjecture priestly succes¬
sions after the lex Ogulnia (he did not list the flamines, nor the minor priesthoods).

1) Die Cooptation der Romer, Mitau-Leipzig, 1848, pp. 215/216.

2) RF — Romische Forschungen, 2 vols., Berlin, 1864, 1879 (repr. G. Olms,
Hildesheim, 1962), 1, pp. 83 ff.

3) Mercklin, op. cit., p. 101.

4) Die Priester der vier grossen Collegien aus rdmisch-republikanischer Zeit,
K. Wilhelms, Gymnasium in Berlin, XI. Jahresbericht, Berlin 1871. Bardt presented
the Illviri, the later Vllviri epulones, as the fourth major college, but it is
under Augustus that we first hear of the four major colleges (Suet., Aug. 100;

Dio, 53.1.5, Marquardt-J. Marquardt and Th. Mommsen, Handbuch der ro-

mischen Alterthiimer, 7 vols., 2nd ed., 1876-1886, 3, p. 221; RKR — G. Wissowa,
Religion und Kultus der Romer, 2nd ed., Miinchen, 1912, (Handbuch der klas-
sischen Altertumszmssenschaft, V, 4), pp. 483 ff.; as against Cicero’s three (har.
resp., 9,18; nat. deor., 3.2,5).

104

George J. Szemler

His work was incorporated without critical evaluation by T. Robert S. Broughton
and M. Patterson, 5 ) who presented names of magistrates and priests from
available literary tradition as well as non-literary evidence. M. Hoffman Lewis
treated the priests of the Julio-Claudian period, 6 ) of whom twenty fall within the
limit of 44 B.C. Besides the above, diverse, partial and/or topical studies offered
additional views of Roman priesthoods. 7 )

Because priests belonged to the same classes and consequently
espoused the same interests as the magistrates, an investigation of these
class-bound aspects of priesthood and magistry seems to be warranted,
especially in view of the fact that such aspects have not received com¬
prehensive attention in recent years. In the following study an attempt
will be made to present a summary of those priestly functions which
interacted with magistracies, in the frame of the Roman concepts of
aristocracy and religio, as reflected in the functions of the priesthoods
of the Roman Republic. (All dates will refer to B.C. Frequently used
abbreviations will be indicated before the first citation of each work,
e.g.: OCD = The Oxford Classical Dictionary, ed. by M. Cary and
others, Oxford, 1949.)

Priesthoods in General

According to Roman tradition, major sacrifices were performed by
the yearly magistrates, preferably by the consuls. As part of this duty
they were responsible for the direction of community affairs pertaining

5) MRR — T. Robert S. Broughton and M. Patterson, The Magistrates of
the Roman Republic, 3 vols., New York, 1951/52, Suppl., i960.

6) M. Hoffman Lewis, the Official Priests of Rome under the Julio-Claudians,
Am. Ac. in Rome, Papers and Monographs, 1955, basing her material on P.
Hable, De Pontificwm Romanorum inde ab Augusto usque ad Aurelianum condi-
cione publica, D. Breslau, 1888; and G. Howe, Fasti sacerdotum P. R. publicorum
aetatis imperatoriae, Leipzig, 1903, Diss. Halle.

7) Some monographs and articles considered priests from politico-social points
of view; e.g., V. Spinazzola, “Augur,” in E. de Ruggiero, Dizionario epigrafico
di antichitd romana, Rome, 1895-1950; A. Klose Romische Priesterfasten, 1,
Diss. Breslau, 1910; J. Gage, Apollon Romain, Paris, 1955, pp. 698 ff., the Xviri
with inaccuracies; G. Radke, “Quindecimviri,” in RE, 24, pp. 1114,53 ff-, for
lists, cf. pp. 1142,64 ff. Pontifices maximi : RAAF-F. Miinzer, Romische Adels -
parteien und Adelsfamilien, Stuttgart, 1920, p. 414, as well as priests as political
entities, passim ; the pontifices in the first century B.C., L. R. Taylor, “Caesar’s
Colleagues in the Pontifical College,” AJPh, 63 (1942), pp. 385 ff., list pp. 411/412;
D. E. Hahm, “Roman Nobility and the three Major Priesthoods, 218-167 B.C.,”
TAPhA, 94 (1963), pp. 73 ff., basing his material entirely on MRR, without source
analysis, and without list; also J.-Cl. Richard, “Sur quelques grands pontifes ple-
beiens,” Latomus, 27 (1968), pp. 786 ff.

Religio, priesthoods and magistracies in the Roman Republic

10 5

to men and gods. The magistrates took the auspicia, 8 ) while general
supervision of religious functions was in the hands of the quattuor
amplissima collegia : 9 ) the three major ones: the pontifices, the augures,
and the quindecemviri sacris faciundis, as well as the fourth, in a more
or less subordinate position, the tresviri, later septemviri e pul ones. 10 )
Membership in all these colleges was valued for the prestige it gave
to the holders and their families, but especially in the college of pon¬
tifices and augures, since they were consulted by the senate in most
controversial issues regarding religion. 11 ) They could always insist
that sacred matters be taken by the senate before profane ones, 12 ) and
in such cases, the senate regularly discussed the problem in a probu-

8) It is not our purpose to analyze the thorny problem of auspicia, and spectio,
cf. the very detailed description in RSR — Th. Mommsen, Romische Staatsrecht,
3 vols., 1887, unchanged reprint of the 3rd ed., Ak. Druck- u. Verlags., Graz, 1952,
1. pp, 87 ff. To auspicium: Wissowa in RE, (Pauly-Wissowa, Real-Encyclopadie
der classischen Altertumswissenschaft, edited in succession by Kroll, Mittelhaus
and Ziegler), 2, pp. 21580,26 ff.; to spectio : Marbach, RE, 3A, pp. 1570.20 ff.,
who defines the similarity between the two, and specifies that in the case of
spectio the meaning includes “action and the right to action” as well. He makes a
distinction between the rights of magistratus majores and magistratus minor es
and suggests that in special cases even the augures could have had the right. As
far as spectio is concerned, three categories are to be distinguished: (1) the
augures , in possession of nuntiatio concerning ausp. oblativa (cf. below), (2) the
magistrate in possession of spectio for ausp. impetrativa and oblativa, and (3) pri¬
vate persons. To this, cf. A. Magdelain, Recherches sur I’imperium, la loi curiate et
les auspices d’investiture, Paris, 1968, in which the author considers the legal
problems in the interrelation between imperium and auspicia. (Also, E. Meyer,
Romische Staat und Stoatsgedanke, Darmstadt, 1961, 85,123 ff.) When and how
the distinction evolved cannot be said; yet, at the end of the Republic, it was quite
precisely delimited, as seen in Cic., Phil., 2.32,81: “Quid enim? Istuc, quod te
sacerdotii iure facere posse dixisti, si augur non esses et consul esses, minus facere
potuisses? Vide me etiam facilius. Nos enim nuntiationem solum habemus: consules
et reliqui magistratus etiam spectionem.” Also, Varro, /./,6,82: “in auspiciis
distributum est, qui habeat spectionem qui non habet.” The passages are analyzed
in RSR, 1, p. 89, n. 3.

9) Suet., Aug. 100; Mon. Anc., 2,16; cf. Kornemann’s article on Collegium,
RE, 4, pp. 380,14 ff., esp. 382,21-383,47-

10) For bibliography regarding history, organization and activity of priesthoods,
cf. RKR, pp. 479-549; Marquardt, 3.234-415; RSR, 1, pp. 104-116; 2, pp. 18-73;
3, pp. iio-iii and 1049-1062; Bouche-Leclercq — A. Bouche-Leclercq, Manuel des
Institutions Romains, Paris, 1886, pp. 5 IO -5b2; RRG — K. Latte, Romische
Religionsgeschichte, (Handbuch der Altertumswissenschaft, V. 4), Beck, Miinchen,
i960, pp. 195-212 and 394-411; Hoffman-Lewis, op. cit., p. 8.

11) Marquardt, pp. 235 ff.; RKR, pp. 479 ff.; RSR 3, p. 1000.

12) ibid., p. 999.

io6

George J. Szcmler

leutic manner, with one of the four colleges under whose competence
the case might have fallen. The decision remained always with the
senate; yet, since the priestly colleges consisted mostly of senatoriales,
their advice should be considered as that given by a permanent com¬
mittee of the senate.

Among the priestly colleges the most important was that of the
pontifices. 13 ) To them fell the duty of advising with the senate con¬
cerning the gods, 14 ) the supervision of ceremonies according to the
prescribed ritual, and the appeasement of the gods when prodigies
appeared. 15 ) They held the indigit ament a, the proper and precise words
with which the gods could be approached, 16 ) the very words which
were pre-announced by the pontifex maximus, their chief, in any
religious affair, to the magistrate. 17 ) Most importantly, the pontifices
were the custodians of the libri pontificii ( pontificates, pontificum) , a
treasure trove of acta, indigitamenta, ritualia, commentarii, fasti, and
annates, which were to be consulted by the college of pontifices only.
Also, they guarded the commentarii, i.e., the responsa and deer eta, which
pertained to the sacred rites. 18 )

13) Besides the pontifices, the rex sacrorum, the flamincs (3 majores and
3 minores), the Vestal virgins constituted the membership of the pontifical college.
They were ranked according to a strictly established hierarchial order. Among
the occasional dual priesthoods held by one person, the above-mentioned priesthoods
were never combined. This fact would tend to prove the essential unity of the
college’s membership (RKR, p. 504).

14) RRG, pp. 195-212; 400-402; J. Bleicken, “Oberpontifex und Pontifikal-
kollegium,” Hermes, 85 (i 957 ), PP- 345-366.

15) ibid., p. 259.

16) H. Usener, Gotternamen, Versuch einer Lchrc von der religiosen Begriffs-
bildung, Bonn, 1896, passim ; M. Kretzer, Dc Romanorum vocabulis pontificabulis,
Diss. Halis. Sax., 1903, pp. 44-81; Richter, RE, 9, pp. 1334,57 ff.

17) Bleicken, '‘Oberpontifex ... loc. cit., describes the pontifex maximus
as a spokesman for the college, p. 364.

18) HRR — H. Peter, Historicorum Romanorum reliquiae, 2nd. ed., 2 vols.,
repr. of the edition Teubner, Leipzig, 1914, Stuttgart, 1967, 1, pp. III-XXIX; W. S.
Teuffel (new ed. W. Kroll and F. Skutsch), Geschichte der romischen Literatur,
3 vols., Teubner, Leipzig (1, 6th ed., igh6; 2, 7th ed., 1920; 3, 6th ed., 1913);
1, par. 76, pp. 135 ff.; for more recent bibliography, cf. HRR, pp. 385-387; also,
(publ. O. Reverdin) Fondation Hardt, Les Origines de la Repnblique Romaine,
Entretiens, Tome XIII, 1967, pp. 135-169. Gabba follows P. Fraccaro’s excellent
evaluation of the problem: “The History of Rome in the Regal Period,” (transl.
U. Erwins), JRSt, 47 (1957), pp. 59-65. Cf. also L. Pareti, Storia di Roma, Torino,
1952, I, pp. 56-57; A. Alfoldi, Early Rome an the Latins, Jerome Lectures,
Seventh Series, Ann Arbor, 1964, pp. 165 ff.; L. Cantarelli, “Origine degli Annales

Religio, priesthoods and magistracies in the Roman Republic

107

In the last stages of the Republic, Cicero described these annales
as the “ius religion urn, vetustas exemplorum, auctoritas litterarum
monumentarumque/’ 19 ) and the pontifices as their interpreters. 20 )
In historically ascertainable times, the head of this college was the
pontifex maximus, who eventually emerged as the most important priest
in Rome. 21 ) He was not a primus inter pares , according to Wis-
sowa; 22 ) rather, the whole college of pontifices formed a unit at the
head of which, for the sake of bureaucratic expediency, stood the
pontifex maximus. This was perhaps the reason why the pontifices
were not nominated by the pontifex maximus', rather, they were coopted
in the whole college. 23 ) Thus, we should see the pontifex maximus as
the spokesman for the decision of the entire college concerning piacula,
vote publica, consecrationes, adoptions, wills, marriages, funeral rites
as well as deletions from and additions to the official calendar. 24 )

Among their responsibilities, perhaps the most significant was the
regulation of the calendar. The lex A cilia gave them undisputed right
to determine the days when meetings could be held, sacrifices be offered,
votes cast, and valid decisions of the senate be brought forth. 25 )

Maximi,” RFIC, 26, 1898, pp. 209 ff., identifies the acta (cf. HRR, 1, pp. VII ff.),
or the annales pont. with the commentarii.

19) Cicero, de domo sua, 2,4.

20) ibid., 1,1, ff.

2I1) RKR, pp. 504 ff.; RRG, pp. 117 f f. and 195 ff. The pontifex maximus did
not become the head of the Roman state cult immediately after the regifugium ;
rather, the position was held by a specially created priesthood, the rex sacrorum.
He eventually lost his pre-eminence because of the limitations on his functions,
while the pontifices maximi could embrace new trends, could satisfy demands for
religious activism when adverse conditions of the Hannibalic War developed
religious fervor among the population, aided by the outstanding leadership of
some strong personalities among them.

22) RKR, p. 509; Bleicken, “Oberpontifex ...,” loc. cit., p. 364.

23) Cf. Wissowa, RE, 4, pp. 1208,25 ff.

24) To the sphere of competence, cf. RKR, pp. 511 ff.; RRG, pp. 197/198;
piacula, W. Ehlers, RE, 20, pp. 1179,56 ff.; consecrationes, Wissowa, RE, 4,
pp. 896,29 ff. Concerning magisterial functions of the pontifex maximus, cf.
Bleicken, “Oberpontifex ... loc. cit., where he has shown that separation between
priests and magistracies always existed and remained.

25) Marquardt, 3, p. 286,6; RKR, p. 513; Macr., p. 1,13,21; 14,1; Amm. Marc.,
26,1,12; G. Rotondi, Leges publicae populi Romani, Milano, 1912, repr. Alms, 1962,
p. 273. In a recent note, Hermes, 95 (1967), pp. 383/384, T. J. Luce, jr., suggested
that the interpretation of Livy’s 9.9,2: “.... intercalatae poenae usuram ...,” could
signify that the pontifices maximi were in a position to manipulate monthly interest
rates. His theory will remain an assumption because evidence cannot be offered
that the pontifices maximi ever deliberately used intercalation for this purpose.

io8

George J. Szemler

Decisions were conveyed to the magistrates through decretum or
responsum, 26 ) to which three members of the college were sufficient.
Those three could even overrule the pontifex maximus. 27 )

Several spheres of the pontifex maximus’ legal competence became
important in the political and legal framework of the Roman state.
Firstly, it was his duty to give advice for an adrogatio in the comitiis
calatis. 28 ) Secondly, he had the right of multa 29 ) and the discipline
of the Vestal virgins, 30 ) as well as priests. Lastly, even against the
will of the person whom he selected, he had the right of captio. 31 ) For
this very reason the law of formal inauguration and the undatable
lex Papia were passed in order to regulate this power of the pontifex
maximus. 32 ) In fact, one can see in the duties and privileges of the
pontifices and pontifices maximi a bond between religious and public
affairs, which was strengthened by the parallel duties and privileges
of the pontifices, most of whom held the highest magistracies. 33 )

The historical origin and development of the second college, the

26) RKR, p. 514; decretum, Hesky, RE, 4, pp. 2289,21 ff.; esp., pp. 2302,21 ff.,
pointing out that these are not binding but will become effective through the decree
of the magistrate.

27) Livy, 31.9,7 ff.

28) RRG, op. cit ., p. 400; Leonhard, RE, 1, pp. 419,45 ff. The pontifex maximus
never had the right to call together the assemblies, nor was he their presiding
officer (cf. RRG and Bleicken, loc. cit., against RKR, p. 511 and RSR, 2, p. 37.)

29) W. Hellebrand, RE, Suppl. 6, pp. 556,8 ff.; J. Bleicken, “Kollisionen
zwischen Sacrum und Publicum,” Hermes 85 (1957), pp. 446 ff.

30) Livy, 4.44,11 and R. M. Ogilvie, Commentary on Livy, Books 1-5, Oxford,
1965, p. 602; also, Livy, 8.15,7. Later interpolation and potential political misuse
is shown by Mtinzer, „Die romische Vestalinnen bis zur Kaiserzeit,” Philol., 92
(1937), pp. 47 ff. and 199 ff. C. Koch ( Religio, Studien zu Kult und Glauben der
Romer, Niirnberg, i960, pp. 2 ff.) points out that it is a criminal process because
for breach of religious law such a process was not initiated by the community.

31) Livy, 27.8,4,5; Gell., n.a., 1,12,1-5 and 11, concerning the Vestal virgins.

32) Gell., loc. cit., 11. Evidently, it must have come later in the Republic in view
of the fact that the pontifices maximi, as a directing force in politico-religious
affairs, did not emerge until the third century. Two possibilities exist, either
through a C. Papius, tr. pi. in 65, or the trib. Papius in 253, the year when Ti.
Coruncanius was elected a pontifex maximus. Rotondi, Leges publicae populi
Romani, Milano, 1912, (repr. Alms, 1962), pp. 376/377, holds to the later date,
which seems to be feasible, although the earlier date is not impossible because
“potrebbe anche trattarsi di una legge di un’epoca intermedia e di autore ignoto.”

33) A superficial view of MRR, 2, pp. 524 ff. will show the validity of this
statement. In a pending publication on Republican priests I have come to the con¬
clusion that only one sixth of the known members of priestly colleges and sodalities
did not hold higher magistracies.

Religio, priesthoods and magistracies in the Roman Republic

I09

augures, is mired in pseudo-history. Yet, the study of auspicia, through
which they claimed to ascertain the will of Jupiter, 34 ) was their main
preoccupation and was so closely connected with Roman society that
without them Rome would have been unimaginable. In most cases the
magistrates took the auspicia and the augures gave interpretation
according to strictly established formulae. Their ritualistic act of inter¬
preting, named “augurium agere”, 35 ) was not connected with the
performing of sacrifices in any way because such performances fell
under the sphere of pontifical competence. 36 ) The augures did not
offer a glance into the future, 37 ) nor did they determine the causes
of contemporary misfortune; rather, from signs, according to well-
established laws of augury, 38 ) they merely indicated or interpreted the
agreement or disagreement of the gods. Therefore, their priestly duties
were in no way clashing with those of the members of other colleges.
Yet, the importance of those duties seems to be evident.

The college was always in a parallel position to the pontifical college,
as seen in the selection, number of members, and personalities in the
membership. It is presumed that the augures had a president, most
likely the oldest member. 39 ) In their archives were collected the augural
fasti, acta, libri, and/or commentarii, 40 ) which were divided into the
decreta 41 ) and responsa, 42 ) which were records of augural decisions
concerning the magisterial auspicia, as opposed to the libri which de-

34) RSR, 1, pp. 76 ff.; Wissowa, RE, 2, pp. 2313,41 ££.

35) Varro, de l.l, 642; Cicero, de div., 1.17,32; cf. also, K. Latte, Kleine Schrif-
ten, (ed. O. Gigon, W. Buchwald and W. Kunkel), Beck’sche Verlag, Miinchen,
1968, p. 103.

36) RKR, p. 524.

37) Cicero, de div., 2.33,70.

38) Bouche-Leclercq, pp. 524-539; Marquardt, pp. 401-409; good, brief review in
Der Kleine Pauly, Lexicon der Antike, auf Grundlage von Pauly's Realencyclo-
padie , ed. K. Ziegler and W. Sontheimer, Stuttgart, (to the present only three
vols., 1, 1964; 2, 1967; 3, 1969), 1, pp. 735-31 ££-, by W. Eisenhut.

39) Cicero, de sen., 18,64, the controversial passage concerning M. Porcius Cato’s
augurate: “Multa in nostro (or vestro) collegio praeclara, sed hoc, de quo agimus,
in primis, quod, ut quisque aetate antecedit, ita sententiae principatum tenet, neque
solum honore antecedentibus, sed iis etiam, qui cum imperio sunt, majores natu
augures anteponuntur.” Some MSS read “nostro,” others, “vestro,” a reading
which is accepted by P. Weulleumier (Paris, 1940) and A. Rinaldi (Milano, 1946).
Cf. Wissowa, RE, loc. cit., pp. 2322,31 ££.

40) Marquardt, p. 400.

41) Cicero, de div., 2.15,35 and 35,73, leg., 2.12,31; Livy, 4.7,3.

42) Cicero, de domo sua, 15,40.

George J. Szemler

scribed the science of augury. Exactly in these interpretations is it
possible to see the importance of the augural college. Roman law
demanded that certain state occasions, e.g., magisterial entry into office,
decisions of assemblies, and departures for wars, could be performed
only after auspicato, 43 ) i.e., after the good will of the gods had been
ascertained. If the auspicia indicated displeasure or disapproval of the
gods, the function was automatically suspended or cancelled. 44 ) In
fact, any influence of the augural college would emanate from these
interpretations, since all doubts or difficulties which might have mani¬
fested themselves in taking the auspicia impetriva were put to the
augural college for study and decision.

As Wissowa pointed out (RE, loc. cit, pp. 2333,67 ff.), originally their capacity
was advisory, which through the centuries acquired a great deal of politically
expedient formalism. He specified that most likely in the last century of the
Republic one can see that the magistrate was not obliged to accept the augural
interpretation. 45 ) Yet, after the assembly was over, the augural college could be
consulted, especially if auspicia oblativa, like thunder or lightning 46 ) were reported,
or a procedural mistake occurred, on account of which vitium could be pro¬
claimed. 47 ) Thus, the validity, or the permissibility of the political action de¬
pended on their decision. Specifically, through this process, in Cicero’s time, 48 )
they could (1) grant or refuse permission to hold an assembly; (2) stop a pro¬
ceeding in the middle; (3) adjourn assemblies, although called to order by the
highest magistrate; and (4) force the consul to resign. That a magistrate could
not ignore such power is evident, although it would be presumptuous to generalize
that the same precise system existed from the earliest phases of the Republic.

The third college was the quindecemviri (originally duumviri, later
decemviri) sacris faciundis. 49 ) Originally consisting of two, by 367,
the number of priests was raised to ten, 50 ) equally divided amongst

43 ) To this, cf. Julicher, RE, 2, pp. 2580,26 ff. cf. also, spectio, Marbach, RE,
loc. cit., and obnuntiatio, Weinstock, RE, 17, pp. 1726,48 ff.

44) RSR, 1, p. 76, Among the auspicia, the impetriva were sought on demand
from the gods by the magistrate. Yet, the augurcs, or for that matter any person,
could declare the sighting of other, not demanded auspicia, which were called obla¬
tiva (Wissowa, RE, loc. cit., pp. 2330,44 ff.).

45) Festus, p. 268. L.; Pliny, n.h., 28,17, “neque ... auspicia pertinere ad eos,
quicumque ... observare se ea negaverint.”

46) Cicero, de div., 2.18,42.

47) e.g., Livy, 45.12,10; 23.31,13.

48) Cicero, de leg., 2.12,31.

49) RRG, p. 160, n. 4; pp. 397/398- G. Radke, RE, 24, (1), pp. 1114,53 ff.;
cf. lists of members pp. 1142,64 ff.

50) Livy, 6.37,12.

Religio, priesthoods and magistracies in the Roman Republic

III

plebeians and patricians. 51 ) (Thus, in the third century, the college
was construed similarly to the pontifical and augural colleges.) It is
possible that a dual presidency was the executive organ of the college,
as seen in the magistri of the saecular games in 249, a plebeian, M.
Livius Salinator, and the other a patrician, M. Aemilius Lepidus
Numida. 52 ) The major duty of the college was the guarding 53 ) and
interpreting of the Sybilline oracles, 54 ) which were consulted at times
of great danger to the State. The consultation had to be done at the
special request of the senate 55 ) for the following reasons: (1) in case
of party strife, 56 ) (2) great misfortune, 57 ) or (3) prodigies which
were difficult to interpret. 58 ) Afterwards, the decemviri brought to
the senate's attention the words of the oracle, gave their interpretation,
which then the senate complemented with the necessary resolutions. 59 )
These interpretations did not presage a doomed future; rather, they
clarified and gave positive specifications of modus operandi in securing
the favour of the gods in the business at hand, “to put it bluntly, to
get luck on their side." 60 ) The oracles understandably were kept in

51) Livy, 642,2.

52) MRR, 1, p. 223. The priesthoods are mentioned in connexion with the
ludi saeculares. Bardt, XVviri s.f. 1, Klebs, RE, 1, p. 572,33/35 for M’ Aemilius,
and Bardt, XVviri s.f., 2, Miinzer, RE, 13, pp.891-23-66 for M. Livius Salinator.
They point out that the names are correct (CIL, i 2 , p. 29), but there is serious
doubt concerning the historical event, the alleged third ludi saeculares in 236.
Mommsen has shown ( Romische Chronologie bis auf Casar, 2nd ed., Berlin, 1859,
p. 186), that the date was established on the fasti, in order to coordinate it with
the date of the Augustan revival of the same. Most authorities hold to the date
of 249 (RKR, p. 451; L. R. Taylor, OCD, p. 821; Radke, RE 24, p. 1143,45 ff.;
RRG, p. 246 ff.). A M’ Aemilius’ death is mentioned in Livy, 26.23,7, it is possible
that he is our Xvir s.f., since no other person can thus be identified.

53) Dion. Hal., 4,62.

54) Gell., n.a., 1,19,11; Cicero, de div., 1,2,4.

55) Cicero, de div., 2.11,12; Dion. Hal., 4,62,5.

56) gtocgiq, or “gtolgzcoc, xoLTOLkccfiouGriQ tt]v ttoXiv” in Dion. Hal.; tumultus
in Val. Max., 1,1,1; esp. concerning the Gracchan revolt.

57 ) “Sikjtuxioc,” or - c, tivo(; (jisyaAT]^ au[jL7rsaoua7)(; xaxa 7r6Xsp,ov in Dion. Hal.;
clades in Livy, 40.37,1.

58) “TspaTcov tiv&v xal 9avTaap.aTcov” in Dion. Hal., diverse terms in Latin
authors.

59) RKR, p. 531.

60) H. Stuart-Jones in The Cambridge Ancient History, ed. by S. A. Cook,
F. E. Adcock and M. P. Charlesworth, vols. 7, 8 and 9, Cambridge, 1928-1934,
7 , P- 43 °; RKR, p. 539,2; especially, the above-cited passage of Dion. Hal., 4,62,5.

112

George J. Szemler

the greatest secrecy, 61 ) since only the decemviri constituted the com¬
petent agency to study them. 62 ) That these oracular interpretations
and ambiguous answers could be used for other than religious benefit
seems to be evident.

There seems to be some confusion in the records between the XVviri s.f. and
the haruspices, yet the haruspices were never sacerdotes publici p.r. 63 ) In case of
necessity they were invited from outside of Rome. 64 ) They foretold the future,
a factt which should indicate the essential difference between them and the augural
and decemviral colleges. 65 ) They have not constituted a special college in Rome
until the time of the emperor Tiberius.

The E pul ones, the latest of the four colleges, was instituted in 196 66 )
because the pontifices were unable to cope with the increasing burden
of religious rituals. The epidones’ dependency upon the pontifices is
evident, since the pontifices arbitrated in their differences 67 ) and
substituted for them whenever they were not available to perform
prescribed functions. 68 ) These included a number of cult-oriented
ceremonial duties, (( tensae, curricula, praecentio, ludi , libationes epu-
laeque ludorum.” 69 )

61) Cicero, de leg., 2.12,30; Lact. Inst., 1,6,13.

62) On account of their interpretations “Mater Idaea” was brought to Rome
by 204 (Livy, 29.10,4 ff.). Among the many attempts to explain historically the
bringing of Magna Mater to Rome, Latte’s seems to be acceptable (RRG, p. 260,
esp. note 3). He says that in later historical periods one hardly ever hears about
the cult, “weil er hauptsachlich von den armeren Schichten getragen wurde, die
naturgemass in den Inschriften weniger hervortreten. Dann hatte man gerade,
als die eigentliche Gefahr des zweiten Punischen Krieges voriiber war, diesen
Schichten eine Konzession gemacht.” Latte admits the likelihood that the new
cult could signify an attempt to introduce new methods of religious cult. Never¬
theless, he reduces the possibilities to one common denominator, “Fur die Religions-
politik der romischen Regierung in dieser Zeit ist die Riicksicht auf die Stim-
mungen in der Bevolkerung Roms massgebend, nicht die Aussenpolitik.’’ R. Muth,
“Romische Religio.’’ Serta Philologica Aenipontana, 7/8, Innsbruck, 1962, pp.
253/254, considers the “Magna Mater” cult as the first notable manifestation of
Roman flexibility within the frame of traditional cult practices.

63) RKR, p. 543; H. Stuart-Jones, CAH, 7, pp. 429/430; RRG, pp. 396/397.

64) Cicero, de div., 1 . 43 , 97 ; Livy, 27.37,7.

65) RKR, p. 547.

66) Livy, 23.42,1; cf. RRG, p. 251.

67) Cicero, de har. resp., 10,21.

68 ) Dio C., 43,4L9; 48,32,4.

69) Cicero, loc. cit.

Religio, priesthoods and magistracies in the Roman Republic 113

Requirements and membership

Originally, all priesthoods were of the patrician order, 70 ) but in
the late Republic only the rex sacrorum and the flamines majores were
bound to patrician status. 71 ) The college of the decemviri sacris faciun-
dis was most likely open to the plebeians by the Licinio-Sextian
law. 72 ) The plebeians next secured the right of pontificate and augur-
ate through the lex Ogulnia in 300, 73 ) in accordance with the gains
made after 366.

The members of the colleges were chosen for life in contrast to annual
magistracies. 74 ) Technically, no priest could be dismissed, only the
salii were obliged to abdicate whenever they reached another priest¬
hood. 75 ) Also, the Vestal virgins were permitted to leave after 30
years of service. We know that priestly competence remained even
when a priest left the city for some reason or other. The pontifex
maximus was obliged to remove a priest from his position only when
the priest’s duty came into opposition to his other activities, especially
in the case of the flamines. 76 ) Also, when a priest was condemned in

70) RKR, pp. 487 ff.

71) RKR, pp. 506, 5, 6, 7 , 8 .

72) Livy, 6.37,12; 6.42,2; 10,8; CIL, i 2 , 15.

73) Livy, 10.6-9,2; MRR, 1, p. 172; the membership was increased by adding
four or five places to the existing colleges of four patricians each. According
to Bardt (p. 32) “... die Zahl so gut bezeugt ist, wie iiberhaupt nur eine aus
dem Alterthum bezeugt sein kann.” Nevertheless, he points out (cf. RRG, p. 197,
n. 1) that the pontifex maximus was not noted in Livy’s list. It is evident that
the head of the pontifical college could be either a plebeian or patrician, as seen
in the 7 plebeian and 6 patrician pontifices maximi between 225 and 44. There
is evidence that in both colleges the patricians were restricted to about half the
places. Yet, the plebeians were eligible for all the places (cf. L. R. Taylor,
“Caesar’s Colleagues in the Pontifical College,” AJP, 63 (1942) p. 407).

74) RSR, 2, pp. 19 ff.

75) RKR, p. 494, note 1.

76) Val. Max., 1.1,4 ff.; Livy, 26.23,8; Concerning the flamines, as represen¬
tatives of the divine numina, cf. Muth, Romische Religio, loc. cit., pp. 259 ff.
Between the middle of the third and second centuries, we find that the flamines’
position came under the control of the pontifices maximi who delimited some
individual priests in their political functions. Latte (RRG, p. 195) speaks about
“Machtkampfe” in politico-religious matters, even of a revolution, by which the
pontifex maximus became the head of the Roman sacral institutions. J. Bleicken
(“Oberpontifex .. .” loc. cit., Hermes, 85, pp. 363 ff.), after having traced the
pontifex maximus 3 position as far as imperium, potestas and auspicium are con¬
cerned, comes to the conclusion that the flamines, Rex sacr., as well as the Vestal
virgins, were not under the pontifex maximus in the sense of a superior, rather

Numen XVIII

George J. Szemler

114

court, he automatically lost his priesthood, 77 ) but in the case of the
augures (and the fratres arvales), even then their priestly competence
remained. 78 ) The position of the pontifex maximus could never be
lost. Since the number of members was specific, 79 ) the priestly colleges
constituted special groups of permanent functionaries whose lifelong
terms potentially permitted them to exercise an impact upon society
through their state and society-connected duties.

The selection of the priests was originally in the hands of the members
of the colleges, who chose new members through cooptation; in the
historically ascertainable later periods, exceptions were the rex sacro-
rum, flamines and Vestal virgins, who were appointed by the pontifex
maximus. 80 ) Two members of the college nominated the candidates,
the number of which was limited to three. 81 ) In Cicero’s time, most
likely a vote of some comitia was taken between the nomination and the
cooptation. 82 ) It is certain, however, that during the third century

as the administrative head of the pontifical college: that the pontifices, especially
the pontifex maximus, always remained what they originally were, i.e., priests,
separate from magistrates. He sees in the eventual superiority of the pontifex
maximus a lengthy development due to strong personalities in the position.

Muth, Romische Religio, loc. cit., (pp. 253 ff.), after tracing the cult concepts
of Roman religion in the Republic and the Empire, states: “Die Geschichte der
romischen Religion wird man primar sicher nicht als Geschichte ihrer zuneh-
menden Uberlieferung sehen diirfen, sondern als Geschichte des Strebens nach
Selbstbehauptung der alten Religionsidee,” (p. 253).

In a recent article, J.-Cl. Richard, “Sur quelquees grand pontifes plebeiens,”
Latomus, 27 (1968), pp. 786 ff., espouses the idea that the change was due to
forceful plebeian pontifices maximi between 242-131, who embellished the position
of the pontifex maximus by delimiting the function of the flamines majores for
political and religious reasons.

77) Plut., quest. Rom., 99. Cicero, Brut., 33,127, “hie (Sulp. Galba, cos. no)
qui in collegio sacerdotum esset, primus post Roman conditam iudicio publico est
condemnatus.”

78) Plut., quest. Rom., 99.

79) Information conveniently collected in RKR: pontifices and augures,
originally three, later increased to six, nine, fifteen, and through Caesar to sixteen
(PP- 503»4 ff-> 5 2 3 > 4 ) i the epulones originally three and later increased to seven
(p. 518); and XVviri s.f. (pp. 534 / 535 )-

80) Wissowa, “cooptatio,” RE, loc. cit.,; RKR pp. 487 ff.; RRG, pp. 394-396.

81) Livy, 40.42,11; Tac., ann., 4,16. In case of the Vestal virgins, the list of
nominees included 20 names, of which the new members were selected by lot
(Gell., n.a., 1,12,11). In case of the others, it is generally considered that three
names were proposed.

82) Pont.: Cicero, ep. ad Br., 1.5.3; Suet., Nero, 2; Aug.: Cicero, Phil., 2.2.4;
13.5, 12 -; XVviri s.f.: (RKR, pp. 534 / 535 )-

Religio, priesthoods and magistracies in the Roman Republic

”5

the pontifex maximus was elected from the members of the pontifical
college 83 ) by a special assembly of 17 tribes. 84 ) After some un¬
successful attempts, 85 ) in 104 a plebescite of the tr. pi., Cn. Domitius
Ahenobarbus, determined that the members of the four major colleges
be elected by the vote of the 17 tribes. 86 ) The nomination became most
likely the responsibility of the augures. 87 ) The vote of the assembly,
nevertheless, obliged the presiding officer of each college formally
to coopt the new member. Sulla temporarily stopped the law, 88 ) but
a lieutenant of C. Julius Caesar in 63, T. Labienus, reinstated it
again. 89 ) The result was that in the time of Cicero regular elections
were held for priests between the consular and praetorial elections. 90 )
Some requirements for entrance into priestly colleges were specific. 91 )
An individual who wanted to become a member had to be a Roman
citizen, 92 ) of free birth, 93 ) and without bodily defect. 94 ) Yet, un¬
specific characteristics must have been more exacting and more difficult
to fulfill in Rome’s aristocratic society where the upper classes mainr
tained an almost exclusive political control.

The priests were members of this segment of the population; most
of them, especially the pontifices and augur es, held higher magistracies.
Thus, in their pre-selection and eventual inauguration, the same, i.e.,
aristocratic, criteria appear to prevail.

83) L. R. Taylor, “The Election of the Pontifex Maximus in the Late Repub¬
lic,” Cl. Phil., 37 (1942), pp. 421 ffesp. p. 421, note 1, for bibliography. Cf.
Munzer’s evaluation of the same problem in RAAF, pp. 185/186.

84) RSR, 2, pp. 27 ff.; RKR, pp. 495, 508 ff.

85) C. Licinius Crassus, tr. pi. 145, proposed a bill for popular vote in electing
priests; RRG, p. 277; MRR, 1, p. 470.

86) Cicero, pro Deiot ., 11,31; Livy, per., 67; Val. Max., 6.5,5; RSR, 2, pp.
25 ff.; H. Last in CAH, 9, pp. 163/164; RAAF, pp. 359/360; MRR, 1, pp. 561/
562, n.5.

87) Auct. ad. Her., 1.12,20: “lex iubet augurem in demortui locum qui petat in
contione nominare.”

88) Livy, per. 89; Dio, 37.37,1; Auct., vir. ill., 75,11; for further references,
cf. MRR, 2, p. 75.

89) Dio, 37.37,1 -2; Taylor, “The Election of the Pontifex Maximus,” loc. cit.,
pp. 421/422.

90) Cicero, ep. ad. Brut., 1.5.4; Dio Cass., 41.36,3.

91) RSR, 2, 32; 3,566; RKR, p. 491.

92) Cicero, pro Balbo, 24,55.

93) Gell., n.a., 1,12,4.

94) Cf. RKR, p. 491; Dion. Hal., 2.21.3; Seneca, contr. 4,2; Gell., n.a., 1,12,3;
Fronto, p. 149. Nab.; Plut., quest. Rom., 73; RKR, p. 491.

Il6 George J. Szemler

Excursus i

It is beyond the scope of this paper to elucidate the means by which Roman
aristocracy maintained leadership. Nevertheless, a brief reflection upon the
problem appears to benecessary. 95 ) Studies in Roman politics attempted to define
some norms, e.g., mos majorum, amicitia, virtus, from literary evidence of the
late Republic and the Empire {ad mores, cf. A. Steinwenter, mores, RE, 16,
pp. 290,17 ff.; esp. “M. als Sitten,” pp. 296,44 ff; also, P. L. Schmidt, “Der kleine
Pauly,” 3, pp. 1427,1 ff.). The following statement, i.a., can illustrate acceptance
of this tendency in Roman political life, as seen by R. Syme ( The Roman Revo¬
lution, Oxford, 1939, p. 315) :

“The Romans as a people were possessed by an especial veneration for
authority, precedent and tradition, and by rooted distaste for change unless
change could be shown to be in harmony with ancestral custom, ‘mos majorum’
— which in practice meant the sentiments of the oldest living senators.”

{Ad amicitia, Oehler, amicus, RE, 1, pp. 1831,5 ff. (esp. *2) brief restatement
under amicitia in “Dcr kleine Pauly,” by H. Hausmaninger, 1, pp. 299,52 ff); Syme
(op. cit., p. 12) illustrates amicitia thusly:

“Three weapons the nobiles held and wielded, the family, money and the
political alliance {amicitia or factio ...);” and p. 157, “Roman political factions
were welded together... on a favourable estimate the bond was called amicitia,
otherwise factio.”

Quoting also Sallust {b.J., 31,15) and Cicero {fam., 3.10,9) :

“in quo (aug. college) non modo amicitiam violari apud majores nostros fas
non erat, sed ne cooptari quidem sacerdotem licebat, qui cuiquam ex collegio
esset inimicus.”

Cf. also, D. E. Hahm, “Roman Nobility and the Three Major Priesthoods,”
TAPhA, 94 (1963), pp. 80, 82, 83, who saw in priesthoods nothing but a tool in
embellishing “party positions” of the aristocracy (following Miinzer’s and Scul-
lard’s theories concerning family and other connections.) D. Earl, The Moral
and Political Tradition of Rome, Ithaca, New York, 1967, p. 21, sees in the
relentless pursuit of certain continuously changing ideas, specifically virtus, the
basic goal of aristocratic rule. He says:

“Virtus, for the Republican noble, consisted in the winning of personal pre¬
eminence and glory by the commission of great deeds in the service of the
Roman state.”

95) Laudationes and elogia will be treated below as far as they pertain to the
individual careers of priests. To questions on Republican nobility, i.a., Gelzer,
Kl. Schr., op. cit., 1, pp. 17 ff., was utilized as well as for those concepts which
are not essential in the consideration of requirements for priestly cooptation:
dignitas, gravitas, pietas (C. Koch, RE, 20, pp. 1221,58 ff.), fides, (Otto, RE,
6, pp. 2281,41 ff.), labor and patientia. To these cf. also Burck, Gymn. 58, 1951,
pp. 163 ff., and Koch, op. cit., pp. 103 ff., for analysis of vir bonus.

Religio, priesthoods and magistracies in the Roman Republic

ii 7

The emergence, and pervading interests, of Roman nobility to pursue these
concepts is excellently analyzed by D. Kienast, Cato der Zensor, seine Persbn-
lichkeit und seine Zeit. Heidelberg. 1954, esp. Chapter II, pp. 25 ff.

While the above statements contain vestiges of feasible interpretation, any
generalized acceptance and unselective reliance upon one or more of such concepts
will present only part of the historical picture. One has to consider that a great
number of strong personalities appeared, especially among the pontifices and
augures, as well as among the magistrates who did not hold priesthoods, who
became the directing force in the creation of a milieu, in which such slogans as
mos majorum, amicitia , and virtus were shaped according to given conditions and
individual, rather than class-based, considerations. Furthermore, many Roman
writers of the late Republic and the Empire were preoccupied with the deteriora¬
tion of ancestral ideals. Thus, their opinion concerning moral and ethical problems
has to be viewed according to the personal conditions of their own time (cf.
F. Hampl., “Romische Politik in republikanischer Zeit und das Problem des
Sittenverfalls,” Hist. Zeitschr., 188 (1955), pp. 497 ft.). Consequently, mos
majorum, amicitia, virtus , which were steadily changing vehicles of Roman
aristocratic standards, cannot be considered extraordinary elements of priestly
selection.

However, besides these, available ex post facto evidence in the form of elogia
and laudationes offer ideal standards by which individuals in leading positions
were evaluated (Vollmer, laudatio funebris , RE, 12, pp. 992,23 ff.; also P. L.
Schmidt, “Der kleine Pauly,” 3, pp. 517,60 ff.) Vollmer presents a chronological
order of available laudationes , but points out their historical unreliability. Cf. to
this, A. Lippold, Consules, Untersuchungen zur Geschichte des romischen Kon-
sulats von 264 bis 201 v. Chr ., Bonn, 1963, esp. chapter 2, pp. 73 ff.). In the
laudationes a tripartite ideal appears which specified the area of activity
for a man in the eye of the public. Included in this area were government, army,
and state cult, comprising the whole activity of public life in which the last was
as important as the first, and separation between one and the other was not
possible.

To illustrate the point, L. Caecilius Metellus, cos. 251 and 247, pont. max. 243,
was praised in this manner by his son, according to the statement of Pliny ( n.h .,
7,139 ff.): “... primarium bellatorem esse, optimum oratorem, fortissimum im-
peratorem, auspicio suo maximas res geri, maximo honore uti, summa sapientia
esse, summum senatorem haberi, pecuniam magnam bono modo invenire, multos
liberos relinquere et clarissimum in civitate esse.” (Cf. to this, Kienast, op. cit.,
pp. 29/30, and Lippold, op. cit., pp. 75/76). Similarly, in the case of the not yet
deceased P. Licinius Crassus Dives, pont. max. 212-183, Livy (30.1,5) writes the
following: “Nobilis idem ac dives erat; forma viribusque corporis excellebat;
facundissimus habebatur seu causa oranda, seu in senatu et apud populum
suadendi ac dissuadendi locus esset; iuris pontificii peritissimus; super haec
bellicae quoque laudis consulatus compotem facerat.” The text is a typical text
of a laudatio. (Apparently, it would have a better place in 39.42 than here.)
Almost the same characteristics are given in Sempr. As. (HRR, fr. 8, from Gell.,
n.a. 1,13,10) : “Is Crassus ... scriptoribus traditur habuisse quinque rerum bonarum
maxima et praecipua: quod esset ditissimus, quod nobilissimus, quod eloquentissi-
mus, quod iuris consultissimus, quod pontifex maximus.”

Precise generalization cannot be established as far as priestly requirements

George J. Szemler

are concerned, since these statements refer to past actions which are consequently
different, according to individual achievements. But in the values which are
suggested, one can establish an overall framework as far as Roman aristocracy
is concerned. Generally, the individual is described as a brave and wise man,
expert in war and in counsel, an eloquent speaker, masterful in matters connected
with law, forceful in mind and character, and, besides the previously mentioned
characteristics, is also well-versed in military matters. Wealth by honourable means
was also a factor. Ultimately, he must have been well-equipped with “congestis
omnibus humanis ab natura fortunaque bonis,” (Livy, 30.1,4), not an esoteric idea
even in our days.

Advisory and Political Role of Priests
Some aspects of magistracy and priesthood

The Republic was a government of the aristocracy in which after 366
plebeian and patrician families alike retained their position by not
permitting unproven, unreliable elements to enter their ranks. Miinzer
pointed out this condition when he said that only few privileged in¬
dividuals could find acceptance as members of the priestly colleges,
since cooptation meant membership for life, while magistrates changed
annually. He emphasized that often the same individuals competed
for both magistracies and priestly appointments and priesthood at
times preceeded, or in some cases followed a political career. x ) As
illustration of Munzer’s statement the following fact can be offered:
with few exceptions all priests held some form of magistracy. As such,
their constitutional position as leaders of the community was not delim¬
ited to merely magisterial functions; rather, it was combined with
priestly duties. Thus, the priests were not merely a permanent advisory
body for the government, but they were expounders of certain policies
in the community, where they represented expertise of traditional

1) RAAF, p. 2. “Denn nur wenige Auserlesene finden Aufnahme in die Priester-
schaften. Zwar ist deren Stellenzahl grosser als die der staatlichen Behorden,
doch Beamtengewalt ist durch die Verfassung in enge zeitliche Grenzen ein-
geschlossen, geistliche Wiirde aber wird auf Lebenszeit verliehen. Um so mehr
richtet sich der Ehrgeiz nicht nur auf Anteil an der Regierung, sondern auch auf
Sitz und Stimme in einem Priesterkollegium, und um so mehr ist Mitgliedschaft
derselben Kollegiums bald die Voraussetzung, bald die Folge von Zugehorigkeit
zu derselben Partei, wie umgekehrt Wettbewerb um Staatsamter und um Priester-
tiimer zwischen denselben Gegnern stattfindet.” The statement is offered by way
of introduction to RAAF. Munzer’s use of he term “geistliche Wiirde” should
be considered a euphemism, vaguely corresponding to contemporary concepts of
“religious dignity.”

Religio, priesthoods and magistracies in the Roman Republic I jg

ritualistic practices in their permanent, annually unchanging colleges.
Toward the government, the priests’ role was primarily consultative.
In fact, the priests, the “'sacerdotes publici” of Rome 2 ) were not
representatives of a divinity in the sense that they acted in a divinity’s
name or brought forth legally binding decisions. Rather, as shown
previously, they were advisory or interpretative organs in the main¬
tenance of the best relations between the gods and the state.

It is impossible to establish a precise modus operandi in seeking and
giving of sacerdotal advice: nevertheless, some basic aspects appear
to be the same on each occasion: (i) Before consultation with priests
was sought, portents appeared, 3 ) about which a magistrate officially
consulted the senate; (2) the senate’s deliberation and decision was
usually connected with official advising with members of a priestly
college; 4 ) (3) after a decision had been made, the senate permitted 5 )

2) RKR, pp. 479/480; RSR, 2, p. 26; Livy, 26.23,7: “Sacerdotes publici eo anno
demortui sunt novique suffecti,” in the year 211 B.C. (MRR, I, pp. 272 ff.);
also, 42.28,10, “Eo anno (172 B.C.) sacerdotes publici mortui...” Wissowa men¬
tions that the priesthoods originally were connected with family names. He is
quoting Arnobius, 3,38, according to whom the oldest male member was responsible
for the maintenance of the cult (cf. especially p. 404, notes 3, 4, and 5). There
is neither time nor place to consider the speculative implications of this obser¬
vation, yet it is significant that in its very conceptions, priesthoods were connected
with individual families, e.g., the Luperci are from the Quinctiales or Fabiani.

3) To portents and prodigies, cf. Handel, RE, 23, pp. 2283,3 ff- I n connection
with the disastrous battle of Trasimene, portents from as far back as 223 were
recalled (Livy, 21,62-63), as well as from outside of Rome (Livy, 22.1,8-13),
portents before and during the battle (22.3,11-13; ibid., 5,8). In the year 203 the
same signs and omens appeared (Livy, 30.2,9-13), as well as in the year 199
(Livy, 32.1.13). In each case, the magistrates “consuluit patres de religione,”
Livy, 22.1,14. For further information cf.: F. Luterbacher, Der Prodigienglaube
und Prodigienstil der Romer, Pr. Burgdorf, 1904, pp. 14 ff.; G. Stiibler, Die Reli-
giositat des Livius, Sendung Roms bei Livius, Frankfurt, 1951, pp. 99 ff.; B.
Krauss, An Interpretation of Omens, Portents, [etc.,] in Livy, Tacitus, and Sue¬
tonius, Diss. U. of Pennsylvania, 1931; P. G. Walsh, Livy, His Historical Aims
and Methods, Cambridge, 1963, pp. 61 ff.; Ogilvie, Commentary, op. cit., pp.
403/404 for additional material; for Livy’s 4th decade, P. Lebrecht Schmidt,
“Zum Text Livianischer Prodigienberichte”, Hermes, 6 (1968/69), pp. 725-732.

4) The senate’s deliberations were initiated in 217 by the new dictator, Q. Fabius
Maximus, augur since 265. The senators, after consultations with the XVviri s.f.
(Livy, 22.9.8) and the pontifices (ibid., 11) passed a sen. cons. In 203 the college
of the pontifices were the advisory body (Livy, 30.2,13), again in the year 200
(Livy, 31.9,9-10). In 199 haruspices were the consultors of the senate, and the
college of pontifices again in 187 (Livy, 39.5,9-10).

5) Livy, 39-5,io.

120

George J. Szemler

or commanded 6 ) the magistrate to carry out the decision. It is prob¬
lematic when and how the priests gave their advice; yet this is precisely
the mote question. That they were unofficially involved in the first
step of the process seems to be evident from the duties of the priestly
colleges. 7 ) The augures, e.g., were basically interested in portents,
signs and prodigies, and it is inconceivable that they or the pontifex
maximus would not be cognizant of such occurrences. Again, it seems
to be logical that the consul or the praetor would have consulted in¬
formally with them, especially in view of the fact that consuls them¬
selves, or members of their families, were members of the same colleges.
Final decisions again depended on the same group. Their advice, as a
decretum, was the decisive one, notwithstanding the fact that, technically,
the senatus consultum followed the decretum . 8 ) Yet, in view of the
preparatory steps, the senatus consultum appears to be a legal technic¬
ality.

Nevertheless, advice given was more than a mere suggestion. Its
weight and importance rested in the Roman’s view of gods and religio,
a culmination of which was expressed in the late Republic in the often
quoted passage of Cicero (har. resp., 9, 19):

“Quam volumus licet, patres conscripti, ipsi nos amemus: tamen nec
numero Hispanos, nec robore Gallos, nec calliditate Poenos, nec artibus
Graecos, nec denique hoc ipso huitis gentis ac terrae domestico nativoque
sensu Italos ipsos ac Latinos, sed pietate ac religione atque hac una sapientia,
quod deorum immortalium numine omnia regi gubernarique perspeximus,
omnes gentes nationesque superavimus.” 9 )

Accordingly, this late Republican view considered that the Romans,
through their special contact with their gods, and supposedly because
of their pietas and religio, did surpass all other nations. Historically,

6) “iubet,” Livy, 22.9,11; “censuerat,” 32.1.13; the consul also acts at the
dictation of “praeeunte maximo pontifice,” Livy, 31.9,9. To this, cf. pertinent
references in D. W. Packard, A Concordance to Livy, 4 vols., Cambridge, 1968.

7) RSR, 3, p. 999.

8) ibid., 1, pp. 112 ff.; 3, pp. 364 ff.

9) To analysis of this passage, cf., La., Muth, loc. cit, op. cit., pp. 247/248,
where the warning is given: “Allerdings diirfen wir aus den beigebrachten und
ahnlichen Aussagen fur unser Anliegen nicht zuviel herauslesen: gemeint ist
nur, dass die Romer die Gotter eifriger und bewusster kultisch verehrten als die
Angehorigen anderer Volker...” Lippold, op. cit., pp. 297/298, points out that
a too idealizing interpretation does not necessarily correspond to historical reality.
For additional information concerning religio of the Romans, cf. below.

Religio, priesthoods and magistracies in the Roman Republic

121

the Ciceronian account is suspect as an actual reference of earlier
periods. One need only remember the difficulties connected with the
subsequent Augustan revival of traditionalist Roman rites where ade¬
quate answers often could not be found to questions concerning earlier
religious practices. 10 ) Thus, even in Cicero’s time, one must assume
interpretations based upon conjecture.

In view of the fact that there are many studies which analyzed what
the Romans understood as religio, 11 ) it is necessary to attempt (T)
briefly to define the terms, and (2) to trace manifestations of religio
in Roman society through rites and ritualistic practices.

Most authorities agree that the modern term religion does not cor¬
respond to the Latin religio, and any alliteration could become concep¬
tually misleading. According to Kobbert 12 ) the term has both an
objective and subjective meaning; thus, for the Romans it signified

10) Lc., RRG, pp. 294 ff.

n) To this complex problem, besides the works cited below, the following
were consulted:

1. \V. Warde Fowler, “The Original Meaning of Sacer,” (repr. from JRSt,
1, 1911), in Roman Essays and Interpretations, Oxford, 1920, pp. 15 ff.

2. L. Deubner, Die Romcr, Lehrbuch der Religionsgeschichte, begriindet
von Chantepie de la Saussay), new ed. by A. Bertholet & E. Lehmann,
2 vols., Tubingen, 1925.

3. W. R. Halliday, The Pagan Background of Early Christianity, Liver¬
pool, 1925.

4. C. Bailey, Phases in the Religion of Ancient Rome, London, 1932 (Sather
Lectures at the U. of Calif., 1931).

5. N. Turchi, La religione di Roma antica, Bologna, 1939.

6. H. Wagenvoort, Imperium. Studien over het mana-begrip en zede en
taal der Romeinen, Amsterdam-Paris, 1941; transl. into English: Roman
Dynanism, Oxford, 1947.

7. F. Altheim, Romische Religionsgeschichte (revised 2nd ed.), 2 vols., Berlin,
1956 (1st ed. in 3 vols., Berlin and Leipzig, 1931-33, transl. into English
by H. Mattingly, 1938).

8. J. Bayet, Histoire Politique et Historique de la Religion Romaine, Paris,

1957 -

J. B. Kaetzler, Religio, Versuch cincr Wortcrklarung (20. Jahresbericht des
bischoflichen Gymnasiums Paulinum in Schwaz 1952/53) Schwaz, 1953, pp. 2 ff.,
was not available to me. For further extensive bibliographies, analyses of primary
and secondary sources, cf. Muth, loc. cit., op. cit., note on pp. 248 ff.; H. J. Rose,
“Roman Religion,” JRS, 50 (i960), pp. 161 ff., and RRG, pp. 1 ff. Still useful,
general background, W. Warde Fowler, The Religious Experience of the Roman
People, Macmillan, London, 1933.

12) RE, 1 A, pp. 565,39 ff.

122

George J. Szemler

an attitude, a feeling toward the suprarational, in conjunction with an
objective, superior meaning of power, a prohibition, a place and action.

Other definitions pursue the same line of thought. Warde-Fowler (The Rel.
Exp., op. cit., p. 249) approaches the problem from the sociological point of
view, sees its origin in the anthropological magical formulae, with which a primi¬
tive, unsophisticated people tried to put themselves in “right” with the powers of
the universe, but adds ( ibid., p. 249) that later, under the impact of a developing
society, this meaning was found wanting and thus developed into a “religious
instinct... to mean the fulfillment of religious obligation quite as much as the
anxious feeling which has originally suggested it.” (ibid., p. 249). In the following,
he argues that in spite of the fact that later writers might not have known
anything about earlier cult practices of the Romans, because of manifestations
of ritualistic forms he considers the possibility of earlier, society-bound sincerity
in religious matters.

Wissowa (RKR, p. 380), initiating his discussions from similar bases, describes
it the following way:

“Grundlage und Voraussetzung fur die gesamte Gotterverehrung ist das
Gefiihl der Abhangigkeit von der gottlichen Macht und Fiirsorge religio und
der Wunsch, die hoheren Gewalten sich gnadig zu stimmen und zu er-
halten...”

This “Wunsch,” according to him, will be shaped by special regulations through
which the state or the individual oblige themselves to certain practices and in
turn consider the gods equally bound to fulfill their part of the bargain.

For H. J. Rose (OCD, p. 758), religio is a bond and non-physical, inner restraint
which the state or the individual oblige themselves to certain practices and in
turn consider the gods equally bound to fulfill their part of the bargain.

Koch, op. cit., p. 99, sees religio “in der leidenschaftslosen, gewissenhaften
Beobachtung eines aussermensdhlichen Gegeniibers.” He points out (ibid., p. 100)
that:

“Die romische res publica ist somit gleichsam das Ergebnis einer zwischen-
staatlichen Zusammenarbeit. In ihrem Aufbau und ihrem geschichtlichen
Werden herrschen zwar ausschliesslich die Gesetze der menschlichen Logik
und eines wirklichkeitsbewahrten politischen Instinktes. Allein es geschieht
kein einziger entscheidender Akt, der nicht auf dem Weg der Auspizien dem
transzendenten Gegeniiber zur Stellungnahme, zur Offenbarung seines Fiat
oder Veto, unterbreitet wird. Damit wird die Handlung menschlicher Initia¬
tive und Verantwortung zu einem Bestandteil des gottlichen Wollens, das sich
der Romer unter dem Begriff des Fatums als eine in die Zukunft iiber-
greifende Planung vorstellt. Die Gotter erscheinen auf diese Weise als die
eigentlichen Baumeister des Staates.”

Among more recent authors, perhaps the most significant is Muth’s
approach to the problem (loc. cit., op. cit., pp. 256 ff.). He expands
Koch’s statement:

Religio, priesthoods and magistracies in the Roman Republic

123

“Die Geschichte der romischen Religion wird man primar sicher nicht als
Geschichte ihrer zunehmenden Oberfremdung sehen diirfen, sondern als
Geschichte des Strebens nach Selbstbehauptung der alten Religionsidee.”

Furthermore, he points out that the Romans’ concept of their gods
rested upon the cognizance of nuniina in actu {ibid., pp. 257 ff.), which
he defines thusly:

“Gottliches numen bleibt fur den Romer stets primar machtvolles gottliches
Gebieten und Walten, gottliches Tatigsein in menschlichen Bereich und in
der Zeit, also in menschlicher Geschichte, es aussert sich in konkreter
geschichtlicher Erfiillheit.”

He shows that (1) the concept numen existed in the earliest forms of
Roman religio, and (2) . . die Romer die gottlichen nuniina zu be-

stimmten Zeiten in konkreter geschichtlicher Situation praesent emp-
fanden, wie ihnen die Gottheit dabei manifest wurde” (p. 258). He
sees acceptance of the numen is manifested in leaders before and during
state actions connected with auspicia and vota, as well as in certain
priests, especially the flamen Dialis, flamines majores in general, and
the Vestal virgins (p. 259):

“Diese Auffassung erhebt sogar zum Glauben, dass die betreffende Gottheit
im Leben ihres Priesters schlechthin gegenwartig sei, wodurch diese Priester
aus einer bloss profanen Existenz herausgehoben sind.”

Muth’s insight is of importance because according to this numen concept,
these priests (as well as the Vestal virgins) held a unique position
between men and the gods. Consequently, they were bound by the
strictest cult regulations. Ultimately, one could say religio was a sense
of obligation, aptly described by Muth as “eine Art commercium” {hoc.
cit., p. 258, or, as described by Latte (RRG, p. 39), a rule-bound sense
of adherence to the manifested demands of higher powers. This sense
of obligation, or commercium, was applied to gods as well as to places,
and the caerimoniae connected with it referred to the object as well as
the subject of religio. Latte also emphasized that religiosity for the
Romans was not

.. eine Gesinnung die die ganze Personlichkeit pragt, sondern die standige
Bereitschaft, auf jedes Anzeichen einer Storung des gewohnten Verhaltnis-
ses zu den Gottern mit einer begutigenden Handlung zu antworten und
einmal ubernommenen Verpflichtungen nachzukommen.”

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That the Romans were always ready to maintain the most satisfactory
equilibrium in their obligations between themselves and the gods is
evident from the elaborate and pedantic rites with which they wanted
to regulate their relationship with the gods, individually as well as in
community affairs. As seen above, in the rites the magistrates acted
for the whole community, obliged themselves in the community’s name,
and fulfilled the vows. In turn, however, they expected the gods to
fulfill their obligations towards them, in maintaining their good will
and fending off hostile powers. The religious acts and ceremonials,
therefore, were designed in theory not so much to please the gods as
to bring about some manifestation of the divinity by prof erring certain
formulae , thus exercising coercive force upon the divinity to assist
and cooperate with the individual or community in return for some
already justified or promised compensation. 13 )

Nevertheless, ceremonialism as the essential quality of early Roman religion
should be enlightened from another aspect. For anthropologists, the word col¬
lectively describes rituals by which the supernatural powers are enlisted in behalf
of man. As such, ceremonialism is always a part of the total religious system
as well as a functioning element of culture, 14 ) and with its simplicity and/or
pageantry it constitutes the one tangible, internally satisfactory, least changeable
evidence for man that he is in proper contact with the supernatural powers.
Actions, words, the mystical language of the unknown and all other paraphernalia
are the means by which this contact is fostered, and they did and do exist in
all religions. In Rome, without these means, religio would have remained in¬
tangible for the majority, as well as unsatisfactory and meaningless. Moreover,
the eventually achieved traditional formalism of ritualistic observance became
a powerful unifying force between performers and spectators alike, through
sentiments evoked during the rites.

It is not the purpose of this work to trace the history of Roman
rites except insofar as it pertains to the subject matter at hand. There¬
fore, the following observation should be made; firstly, when Roman
affairs first appear in the light of history, the performing and super¬
visory elements of the community’s religious functions appear to have
maintained religious ceremonialism as it existed with cohesive and

13) H. D. Jocelyn, ‘The Roman Nobility and the Religion of the Republican
State,” JRH, 2 (1966), pp. 89 ff., analyzes in great detail the problems of external
ritualism, as part of the peculiar Roman concept of religio. He offers examples
of cult-based activities in the second and first centuries, and argues that ritualistic
observances, whether or not based upon fear, ignorance or political expediency,
essentially maintained the concept of religio.

14) M. Herskovits, Man and His Works, New York, Knopf, 1950, pp. 361 ff.

Religio, priesthoods and magistracies in the Roman Republic

125

unifying results for society, especially through the centralization of
Italian cults in the city and the ineardination of these other cults into
the Roman state religion; 15 ) secondly, throughout the religious changes
of the middle and late Republic, when Hellenistic philosophy, new
religions, and the resultant skepsis diminished the nobility’s interest
in ancient Roman religion, 16 ) the government did not reject, nor did
it fundamentally change the formalism of ancestral religion. Rather,
(1) by permitting the community to turn to various foreign divinities,
and (2) by adhering to the tradition, the essential unity of the com¬
munity was astutely and consistently maintained. For our purpose, it
is immaterial whether the avowed purpose of this adherence was a
sincere faith, the serving of individual ambitions, or the peculiarly
Roman interpretation of rule-bound obligation toward gods. The fact
remains that religious ceremonialism was maintained during the Re¬
public by the very nobility which provided magistrates and priests
alike, in the perpetuation of an established status quo, in spite of
subsequent, often personally unbelieving attitudes.

Excursus 2

Such attitudes can be observed in the later stages of the Republic. They are
not essentially connected with priestly functions; rather, they reflect the
opinions of diverse authors in diverse sources, and offer sophisticated views
concerning religio in general. 17 ) They all agree, however, that rites, or caeri-
moniae, have a necessary role. Vestiges of such retrospection can be observed in
Roman society since the third century. 18 ) T. M. Plautus and P. Terentius Afer’s

15) RRG, esp. chapters VII, VIII, IX, pp. 148 ff., i.a., although Latte’s state¬
ment that “Zu der politischen Machtkonzentration gestellt sich eine religiose”
(p. I 93)> cannot be accepted without further qualification. Also, Muth, loc. cit.,
op. cit., pp. 253/254, and Lippold, op. cit., pp. 309/310.

16) RRG, esp. chapter X, pp. 264 ff.

17) RKR, esp. chapters 7-14, pp. 38 ff., passim ; RRG, esp. chapters VIII, IX, X,
pp. 195 ff., passim.

18) Doubt has to be raised concerning the historical acceptability of some
anecdotes in the third century; e.g., in 293, the humorous disdain expressed by
the consul, L. Papirius Cursor, for the auspicia, when he vowed to Jupiter “po-
cillum mulsi” instead of “templa” to the “deis immortalibus” (Livy, 10.42.7). To
this, cf. Miinzer’s justifiably critical attitude in RE, 18, pp. 1052,41 ff.; or,
in 249, when the consul, P. Claudius Pulcher, showed impatient contempt in
ordering the sacred chickens to be thrown into the sea because of unfavorable
auspicia (Cicero, de div., 2,33,70/71; not. deor., 2,3,7; Livy, per. 19). Miinzeir,
RE, pp. 2857,63 ff., admits in this case the possibility of historical validity
because the anecdote corresponds to the “Geist jener Zeit” and the general character
of P. Claudius Pulcher. Nevertheless, his statement remains merely an assump-

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George J. Szemler

plays are full of allusions of travesty, 19 ) which were produced at the Ludi
Romani, Plebei, Apollinares and Megalenses , 20 ) indicating how sophisticated
Romans started to look upon religio.

Q. Ennius’ questioning spirit in matters of religion was approved by the
aristrocracy, 21 ) especially after he had translated the avaycpacpyj of Euhemerus
of Messene and reduced the gods to the level of earthly beings who started to be
adored only after their deaths. 22 ) C. Lucilius rejected miracles as figments of
the imagination and called Numa the inventor of religious terrorism. 23 )
Characteristic are the comments of Polybius in the second century. 24 ) He said
that religio is nothing more than superstition; yet, he added in an admiring tone:

“hzi TOcrouTov yap £XT£Tpaytp8Y)Tai xal TracpEiayjxTai touto to [iipo<; Trap’
auToi^ eic, te TOO? xoct’ ISlav pious, xal Ta xoiva t?)<; 7t6X£cos cocjte (jly) xara-
XiTiziv u7T£ppoXfjv. 6 xal So^elev av 7 toXXol<; slvat. 0aup.acn.ov. spol y£ pyjv
Soxouctl too 7tXy]0ou^ yapiv touto 7i£7roLiQX£vaL. si psv yap -?)V aocpcav avSp&v
TcoXiTsupa auvayaysiv, ’lctcoi % ouSsv '/)v avayxaios 6 toioutos Tpojuoi;* ettsI
8k 7iav 7 tX^ 06(; scmv sXacppov xal 7rX7)p£<; £7ui0upuov Trapavoucov, opy 7 j<;
aXoyou, 0upou, fkaloo, X£i7C£Tai tois aSyjXoL^ <p6poi<; xal t?) TOiauTfl TpaycoSla
Ta 7 tXy)0Y) S^EIV.”

Polybius made a sharp distiction between the “7roXlT£upa oocpcav avSpGjv”
and the “TrXyjOoc,” which is “sXacppov xal 7rXYjp£<; £7n.0upiGjv Trapavopcov, opyyjs
aXoyou, 0 upou Pialou.” and must be left in blessed ignorance, through "dtXifjXais
96^01? xal ty) ToiauTT) TpaycpSla.” It is an understatement that Polybius con¬
sidered religion an “opiate of the people”; nevertheless, his expressed admiration
for the modus operandi duly represented an attitude of enlightenment which
separated the nobles from the non-nobles, the advantaged from the disadvantaged,
the governors from the governed.

According to Augustine, Q. Mucius Scaevola, consul 95, pontifex ca. 115-82,

tion. To Livy’s use of religious awe and prodigies for the sake of bona exempla,
cf. E. H. Haight, The Roman Use of Anecdote, in Cicero, Livy & the Satirists,
New York, 1940, pp. 37 ff. She points out that doubt and rational approach to
interpretation of religio was the direct result of overemphasis of prodigia.

19) Plautus: Cistell., 513 ff.; also Alcesimar’s blunderings about the gods’
names, esp. prol.; cf. also, RRG, p. 265; Terentius: Phormio, pp. 704 ff.; Eun.,
pp. 584 ff.

20) RKR, pp. 451 ff.

21) Enn., Telam., 11.316-318 (ed. Vahlen, pp. 178/179; in ed. Jocelyn, CXXXIV,
a and c, pp. 127/128), as quoted in Cicero, de div., 2.50,104; “ego deum genus esse
semper dixi et dicam caelitum, sed eos non curare opinor, quid agat humanum
genus,” adding to it in nat. deor., 3.32,79: “Nam si curent, bene bonis sit, male
malis, quod nunc abest.”

22) Jacoby, RE, 6 pp. 964,42 ff.; cf. for instance, Cicero, nat. deor., 1.16,42.

23) Lucil., fragm., sat., 1,15 (ed. Marx).

24) Pol., 6.56,6-12; F. W. Walbank ( A Historical Commentary on Polybius,
2 vols., Oxford, 1957 - 67 , 1, PP- n/12 and 741 / 742 ; 2, p. 515) points out that “P.
approved the use of religio for disciplinary purposes” (p. 741), but maintains
that any belief beyond the limits of possibility is a manifestation of simplistic,
narrow intelligence (Pol., 16.12,3-11).

Religio, priesthoods and magistracies in the Roman Republic

127

felt that it is expedient “... falli in religione civitates.” 25 ) His argument was
derived most likely from Stoic ideas prevailing in the Scipionic circle, namely,
the three sorts of teachings concerning the gods: 26 ) .. tria genera tradita

deorum: unum a poetis, alterum a philosophis, tertium a principibus civitatis.” 27 )
Since the third was aimed at the welfare of the state in which the masses were
uneducated and terror and pageantry-bound, it was not to be disturbed. Similar
views were expressed, as seen in Augustine, by M. Terentius Varro, who main¬
tained this three-partite division: .. tria genera theologiae dicit esse, id est

rationis quae de diis explicatur, eorumque unum mythicon appelari, alterum phy-
sicon, tertium civle?” 28 ) He explains the “tertium genus” as follows: “...quod
in urbibus cives, maxime sacerdotes, posse atque administrare debent. In quo
est, quod deos publice sacra et sacrificia colere et facere quemque par sit.” 29 )
Varro further adds: “Prima inquit Varro theologia maxime adcommodata est
ad theatrum, secunda ad mundum, tertia ad urbem.” 3 °) Curious is the ex¬
planation of the “genus civile:” “Multa esse vera, quae non modo vulgo scire
non sit utile, sed etiam, tametsi falsa sunt, aliter existimare populum expediat.” 31 )
In all these interpretations one can observe a chasm between Roman statesmen,
who were members of the educated nobility and the governed, who comprised the
majority of the population. In Cicero, the distinction is not clear. He appears to
have maintained a separation between politically expedient and philosophically
relevant interpretations in matters connected with religion and cult. 32 ) As a
member of the Roman governing class, he maintained that: “people’s constant
need for the advice and authority of the aristocracy helps to hold the state
together.” 33 ) He was specific about the means by which this constant need

25) Aug., civ. Dei, 4.27,16 (ed. Dombart and Kalb, Teubner).

26) In the second century, Panaetius, a member of the Scipionic circle, defined
and divided religious beliefs into “p.u 0 ixYj, 7roXmxr), 91X00091x7).” Cf. M. Pohlenz,
RE, 18, pp. 432,18 ff.; for further analysis of the problem, cf. RRG, p. 277.

27) Aug., civ . Dei, 4.27,2/3 (ed. Dombart, Kalb, Teubner) ; Varro, Ant., fr . 24
(ed. Condemi, Zan. Bologna); to this, Augustine adds: “Triplici enim genere
deorum censum distinxit: unum esse physicum, quod philosophi retractant, aliud
mythicum, quod inter poetas volutatur, tertium gentile, quod populi sibi quique
adoptaverunt” (Varro, fr. 24).

28) Aug., civ. Dei, 6.5,1 ff. (ed. cit.); Varro, fr. 23 (ed. cit.) ; to questions con¬
cerning Varro’s res divinae, RE Suppl., 6, pp. 1234,31 ff., esp. the three genera
theologiae, cf. RKR, pp. 67 ff.

29) ibid., loc. cit., civ. Dei, pp. 57 ff.

30) Varro, fr. 28 (ed. cit.).

31) Aug., civ. Dei, 4.31,15 ff. Similar opinion of Augustine is expressed in
civ. Dei, 3.4,9 ft.: “. .. quam latum locum aperiat falsitati, ut ubi intellegamus
plura iam sacra et quae religiosa potuisse confingi, ubi putata sunt civibus etiam
de ipsis diis prodesse mendacia.”

32) RRG, pp. 285/286, concerning Cicero’s three-partite attitude toward the use
of religion. Also, T. A. Dorey, ed., Cicero, esp. chapters 6, by A. E. Douglas,
and 7, by J. P. V. D. Balsdon, New York, 1965, pp. 135-214.

33) Cicero, de leg., 2, 12, 30,31: “Quod sequitur vero, non solum ad religionem
pertinet, sed etiam ad civitatis statum, ut sine eis, qui sacris publice praesint
religioni privatae satis facere non possint continet enim rem publicam consilio et
auctoritate optimatium semper populum indigere...”

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George J. Szemler

of the people was to be fulfilled. Writing about the college of pontifices , e.g.,
he wrote that:

“Cum multa divinitus, pontifices, a majoribus nostris inventa atque instituta
sunt, turn nihil praeclarius quam quod eosdem et religionibus deorum im-
mortalium et summae rei publicae praesse voluerunt, ut amplissimi et clarissimi
cives rem publicam bene gerendo religiones, religiones [MSS. reading:
religionibus] sapienter interpretando rem publicam conservarent.” 34 )

Also, being a member of the augural college, a position which he appreciated
above all else, he held the augures to be the most important among the leading
priesthoods. He said:

“Maximum autem et praestantissimum in republica ius est augurum cum
auctoritate coniunctum. Neque vero hoc, quia sum ipse augur, ita sentio,
sed quia sic existimare nos est necesse. Quid enim maius est, si de iure
quaerimus, quam posse a summis imperiis et sumnis potestatibus comitiatus
et concilia, vel instituta dimittere, vel habita rescindere? Quid gravius, quam
rem susceptam dirimi, si unus augur alio die dixerit? quid magnificentius,
quam posse decernere, ut magistratu se abdicent consules? quid religiosius,
quam cum populo, cum plebe agendi ius aut dare aut non dare? quid? legem
si non iure rogata est, tollere? ut Titiam decreto collegii; ut Livias, consilio
Philippi, consulis et auguris: nihil domi, nihil militiae, per magistratus gestum,
sine eorum auctoritate posse cuiquam probari ?” 35 )

Significantly, Cicero emphasized the dual, interacting role of political magistracy
(rem publicam bene gerere), and priestly position (religiones sapienter inter-
pretari), alluding thereby to the inseparable ambivalence of politics and cult in
service of the state. 36 )

Examination of the above late Republican literature indicates, there¬
fore, that religio in the last centuries of the Republic was nothing
more than an implementation of the previously suggested commercium

34) ' Cicero, de domo sua, 1,1. That this quotation would prove that the college
of pontifices is confined to senators is unacceptable. Rather, they were members
of the senate because of the magistracies which they held. Separation bdtween
Church and State in ancient Rome was unknown. It is not the role of this paper
to analyze Cicero’s aims and dreams as a rationalizer concerning the sage inter¬
pretation of religion. That he reflected upon a possible reform seems to be
evident from de div., 2.72,148: “Multum enim et nobismet ipsis et nostris profuturi
videbamur, si earn funditus sustulissemus.”

35) Cicero, de leg., 2.12,31. Evidently, the passage does not refer to primary
position of the augures among the priestly colleges. Rather, it shows that they
wielded potential influence at least in Cicero’s time, and according to Cicero.

36) e.g., in de or., 3.33,134, Cicero praises former great pontifices maximi, to
whom: “. . . de omnibus divinis atque humanis rebus referretur; iidemque et in
senatu et apud populum et in causis amicorum et domi et militiae consilium suum
fidemque praestabant.” Cf. also the tendentionus praise in de dom., 1,2.

Religio, priesthoods and magistracies in the Roman Republic

129

between gods and men. The philosophical inquiries reached only a small
part of the population; superstitious practices held no meaning for
the educated and only caused fear among the uneducated. But exactly
in this fear rested the importance of ceremonial practices. The rites,
precise performance of duties, as the major part of the Roman cult,
held the masses in awe, similar to a papal audience of today or some
formal, glittering state occasion such as a presidential inauguration.
Thus, cult and rites were fostered emphatically by the governing
nobility for the sake of political expediency, and for that only. In fact,
in the maintenance of Roman religious practices, one can see the
essential reason for interrelation between priesthoods and magistrates,
cult and politics. The masses constituted the armies, as well as the
assemblies. Upon their attitude rested the career of ambitious individuals
who were not only performers of sacrifices as magistrates, but often
“expert” interpreters of religion, as members of priestly colleges.

Excursus 3

A few examples should suffice to illustrate how well this interplay between
magistracy and priesthood utilized rites-connected practices for non-religious
reasons. The pontifices, e.g., supervised ceremonial exactitude, could insist upon
repetitions, up to ten times, for the smallest breach of the rule; 37 ) they were
overseers of the official calendar; they could determine the specific days on
which meetings were held, triumphs and moveable feasts celebrated, 38 ) even
though political issues would have demanded otherwise. 39 )

Cicero outrightly states that the augural practices, discipline, religious rites
and laws were tools of policy in the service of the state: “Retinetur autem et
ad opinionem vulgi et ad magnas utilitates republicae mos, religio, disciplina, ius
augurum, collegii auctoritas.” 40 ) A few examples should suffice to illustrate this
service.

37) RRG, p. 199, note 2.

38) RKR, pp. 432 ff., concerning feast days, and p. 513; Mommsen, Rom.
Chron., pp. 40 ff.

39) Cn. Cornelius Lentulus Marcellinus, cos. 56, deleted comitial days and
proclaimed thanksgivings in order to manifest his resistance against P. Clodius
Pulcher (cf. MRR, 2, p. 207; esp., Cicero, ad Quint, fratr., 2.1,1-2; 2.4,4 and 5 )-
Thanksgivings were decreed for Caesar’s victories in 57, possibly to delay legisla¬
tion which was contrary to Caesar’s interests (bell. Gall., 2,35: “... dies quindecim
supplicatio decreta est, quod ante id tempus accidit nulla”). In the year 50, C. Scri-
bonius Curio used the refusal of his demand for intercalation as the reason for
siding with Caesar, MRR, 2, p. 249. It is not surprising that Caesar had to initiate
calendar reform; yet, significantly, he achieved that as pontifex maximus. Con¬
cerning triumphs, cf. U. Schlag, Regnum in senatu, Stuttgart, 1968, pp. 17-22; G. V.
Sumner, “A New Reading of the Fasti Tr. Cap.,” Phoenix , 19 (1965), pp. 24-26.

40) Cicero, de div., 2.33,70.

Numen XVIII

130

George J. Szemler

At the end of the fourth century, augural power was used apparently for
political expediency because the augures could not agree that a plebeian should
become a dictator. 41 ). Sometimes the auspicia were falsified for purposes not
necessarily religious. In 293, for instance, incorrect interpretations were given
because of the “ardor omnium.” 42 ) I11 193, all public business had to be

suspended because of the continuous earthquakes (most likely due to augural
interpretation) : “ex auctoritate senatus consules edixerunt ne quis, quo die terrae
motu nuntiato feriae indictae essent, eo die alium terrae motum nuntiaret.” 43 )
In 180, L. Cornelius Dolabella’s election as rex sacrorum was successfully stopped
by “vitium,” which usually was an unfavorable omen. 44 ) Scipio Nasica (Cor-
culum) and C. Marcius Figulus were recalled and forced to abdicate under
augural auspicia. 45 )

From the first century, the following example should suffice. Obvious political
in-fighting was the cause of withdrawal for M. Calpurnius Bibulus, cos. 59,
opponent to Julius Caesar, in order to watch for omens and thus hinder Caesar’s
legislation. 46 ) P. Vatinus’ selection as praetor was the result of Pompey’s claim
that he had heard thunder and thus dissolved the assembly, although “force and
violence” was used as well. 47 )

The first interrex of plebeian status, Q. Caecilius Metellus Pius Scipio Nasica,
was put into this position by unfavorable auspicia which were augurally promul¬
gated during the election scandals of 54. 48 ) Cicero, as a private person, was
bitter and adamant in describing popular cult as a superstition (de div., 2.72,148) :

41) Livy, 8.23,16; MRR, 1, p. 145; if one could give credit to the account in
Livy, 10.40,4. To this and other examples, cf. E. H. Haight op. cit., pp. 37 ff.;
G. Stiibler, op. cit., pp. 99 ff.

42) Livy, 10.40,4.

43) Livy, 35 . 55 , 4 . The whole process was started by the Xviri s.f., but it is
inconceivable that the augural college was not consulted.

44) Livy, 40.42,8 ff., describes L. Cornelius Dolabella’s affair in 180: „De rege
sacrificulo sufficiendo in locum Cn. Cornelii Dolabellae contentio inter C. Ser-
vilium pontificem maximum fuit et L. Cornelium Dolabellam duumvirum navalem,
quern ut inauguraret pontifex magistratu sese abdicare iubebat. Recusantique id
facere ob earn rem multa duumviro dicta a pontifice, deque ea cum provocasset
certatum ad populum. Cum plures iam tribus intro vocatae dicto esse audientem
pontifici duumvirum iuberent, multamque remitti, si magistratu se abdicasset,
vitium de caelo quod comitia turbaret, intervenit. Religio inde fuit pontificibus
inaugurandi Dolabellae.” The “vitium” is usually an unfavorable omen, lightning
and thunder, which necessitated the immediate adjournment of the assembly. In
the fact that the pontifex maximus (and possibly Xvir s.f.) C. Servilius Geminus,
cos. 203, appointed C. Cloelius Siculus to fill the place of Dolabella, Miinzer sees
local patriotic reasons (RAAF, p. 134, n. 1), which is an attractive yet not neces¬
sarily acceptable suggestion. Better, the religious and political reasons given in
Bleicken, “Kollisionen...”, loc. cit., pp. 452/453.

45) Val. Max., 1.1,3; MRR, 1, pp. 441/442.

46) i.a., Dio, 37,52-54; 38,1-12; Gell., n.a., 4.10,8; Livy, per. 103; Plut., Caes.,
11-14; for detailed sources, cf. MRR, 2, p. 187.

47) Livy, per. 105; Val. Max., 7.5,6; Plut., Cat. min., 42; for additional infor¬
mation, cf. MRR, 2, p. 216.

48) F. Miinzer, Hermes, 71 (1936), pp. 222 ff.; MRR, 2, pp. 171/172, n. 4.

Religio, priesthoods and magistracies in the Roman Republic

131

“Nam ut vere loquamur, superstitio, fusa per gentes, oppressit omnium fere animos
atque hominum imbecillitatem occupavit.” Yet, later he clearly stated that it had
a place in society, (referring to his treatise on the subject in de natura deorum) :
“Nec vero (id enim diligenter intelligi volo) superstitione tollenda religio tollitur.
Nam et majorum instituta tueri sacris caerimoniisque retinendis sapientis est..

These, and other examples, show that those who held the government in their
hands maintained and perpetrated in the name of religio a conglomeration of
functions in order to achieve the uninterrupted continuity of existing institutions.

ZENTRALHEILIGTUM, GRENZHEILIGTUM UND
‘HOHENHEILIGTUM , IN ISRAEL*)

VON

K. D. SCHUNCK

Rostock

In einer sehr instruktiven Zusammenstellung und Auswertung
der Hauptergebnisse der israelischen Ausgrabungen auf tell c arad,
veroffentlicht im Biblical Archaeologist 31, 1968, vertritt Yoha-
nan Aharoni die Auffassung, daB das dort wiederentdeckte
Heiligtum aus der israelitischen Konigszeit in einer bewuBten
architektonischen Abhangigkeit von dem Jerusalemer Tempel
gestanden habe 1 ) und dabei von einem ,,main room” =
mit einer „projecting cella’* = TD1, in der sich u.a. eine kleine
viereckige HM befand, sowie einem vorgelagerten ,,courtyard' ’ mit
einem Brandopferaltar in der Mitte gebildet wurde 2 ). So zutreffend
die erste Feststellung iiber eine bauliche Abhangigkeit von der
Jerusalemer Tempelanlage sein diirfte, so problematisch erscheint
mir bei der zweiten Behauptung die Verwendung der Vokabeln
und JIM. Warum?

Bereits im Jahre 1930 wies T. Oestreicher in einer griind-
lichen Untersuchung uber die Begriffe und HM iiberzeugend
nach, daB das Wort in der hebraischen Sprache ein Fremdwort
ist. Es hat in dem sumerischen E-GAL — ,,groBes Haus” als
Bezeichnung fiir den Tempel seinen Ursprung und bezeichnet iiber
die akkadische Form ekallu, die in assyrisch-babylonischen Texten
in der Bedeutung „Konigspalast” steht, sowie den ugaritischen
Ausdruck hkl — „Palast” im Alten Testament dann sowohl den
koniglichen Palast als auch den Konigstempel = den sog. ,,Reichs-
tempel” 3 ). Ganz offensichtlich hat fiir die Ausbildung dieser

*) Referat, gehalten auf dem. XII. KongreB der I.A.H.R. in Stockholm
August 1970.

1) Y. Aharoni, ,,Arad: Its Inscriptions and Temple .” In: BA 31, 1968,
S. 2-32, bes. S. 18 ff.

2) Y. Aharoni, a.a.O. S. 19.

3) T. Oestreicher, ,,Reichstempel und Ortsheiligtiimer in Israel” (BFChTh
33, 3)1 I 93°, S. 12 ff.—Zur Bedeutung im Ugaritischen vgl. jetzt auch
J. Aistleitner, Worterbuch der ugaritischen Sprache, 1963, S. 86 f.

Zentralheiligtum, Gren shelligturn und ‘HdhenheiUgtum’ in Israel

Doppelbedeutung neben der Vorstellung, daB die Gottheit ebenso
wie der Konig in einem ,,groBen Haiis” wohnt, auch die Auffassung,
daB der Konig in einer besonderen, sehr engen Verbindung zur Gott¬
heit steht (vgl. Ps 2; 1. Sam 24, 7 u.a.), eine entscheidende Rolle
gespielt,—wo der Konig wohnt, da wohnt, zumindest unmittelbar
benachbart, auch Gott. Aus eben dieser engen Bindung zwischen
Konig und Gott ergibt sich dann aber auch, daB dem ausschlieBlich
der religios-kultischen Seite vorbehaltenen Gebaude innerhalb der
Residenz eine besondere Bedeutung und Geltung zukommen
muBte, die diesem Heiligtum gegeniiber alien anderen Heiligtiimern
eine besondere Stellung verschaffte: Es war das Heiligtum des
jeweiligen Herrschaftsbereichs bzw. Staatsgebildes und seines
Gottes, es war das Zentralheiligtum, das Hauptheiligtum. Dann
aber ist es nur folgerichtig, daB diese Vorrangstellung auch in einem
besonderen Namen zum Ausdruck gebracht wurde, durch den
dieses Heiligtum von alien anderen Heiligtiimern im Lande ein-
deutig abgehoben wurde.

Diese Annahme findet durch eine genaue Analyse samtlicher
Stellen des AT, an denen das Wort begegnet, ihre klare Bestati-
gung. Es ergibt sich dabei namlich einwandfrei, daB die Vokabel
—sofern sie nicht als Bezeichnung eines koniglichen Palastes
gebraucht wird 4 )—nur im Singular steht und ausschlieBlich fur
den ab Salomo in Jerusalem existierenden Tempel sowie den in
die Richterzeit gehorenden Tempel von Silo Verwendung findet 5 ).
Gerade diesen beiden Heiligtiimern aber kam ja wahrend der
gesamten Zeit ihres Bestehens eine besondere Stellung in Israel zu;
bildete der Tempel von Jerusalem mitsamt der Lade stets das
Hauptheiligtum bzw. Zentralheiligtum eines entsprechenden is-
raelitischen bzw. judaischen und spater jiidischen Herrschafts-

4) So an etwa 20 Stellen im AT, wobei es sich, abgesehen von Jahwes
himmlischem Palast, z.T. um israelitische Konigspalaste, z.T. aber auch um
auslandische Palaste handelt. Bezeichnenderweise treten Pluralformen des
Wortes Vd’H nur in dieser Bedeutung (als Palast) auf.

5) Die Bezeichnung des Jerusalemer Tempels als VdVJ findet sich rund

60 Mai im AT (z.B. 1. Kg 6, 3.5.17.33; Jes 6, 1; Jer 7, 4; Ez 8, 16; Hag 2, 18;
Sach 6, 12 u.o.). Der Tempel von Silo wird 1. Sam 1, 9; 3, 3 als ange-

fiihrt; vgl. dazu auch Jer 7, 4-14. Ri 18, 31 bezieht sich dagegen nicht auf
den Tempel von Silo, sondern das Heiligtum in Lais = Dan (vgl. dazu auch
BH App. z. St.).

134

K. D. Schunck

gebiets, so stelite der Tempel von Silo das zentrale Heiligtum des
israelitischen Stammeverbandes der Richterzeit dar, der m.E.
in dem ebenfalls in Silo residierenden Richter eine oberste zentrale
Fiihrergestalt hatte 6 ). Der Befund des AT ist also eindeutig:
Das AT bezeichnet nur solche Heiligtiimer als die mit der

Residenz des Konigs bzw. einer ihm vergleichbaren obersten
Fiihrergestalt verbunden sind und so den Rang eines Haupt-
bzw. Zentralheiligtums haben 7 ). Ubersetzen wir nun das hebraische
Wort als Bezeichnung fiir ein Kultgebaude mit dem Wort
Temper', so sollte man dieses Wort um der klaren sachlichen
Unterscheidung willen vielleicht besser allein auf derartige zentrale
Heiligtiimer beschranken.

Freilich erhebt sich hier nun gleich die Frage: MiiBte dann
nicht auch das Heiligtum, das wahrend der israelitischen Konigs-
zeit in der Hauptstadt des Nordreiches Israel, in Samaria, be-
stand 8 ), ein VD’n gewesen sein ? Vergleicht man die in Frage
kommenden Stellen, so stellt man jedoch fest, daB hier nicht von
einem sondern von einem IT’D gesprochen wird 9 ).

Wie ist dies zu erklaren ? Ich glaube, daB hier die Beobachtung
weiterhelfen kann, daB das AT den auch noch als TV’S mrp
bezeichnet 10 ), eben dieser Ausdruck (bzw. seine Parallelen) dann
aber auch noch fiir weitere Heiligtiimer Verwendung findet, die
kein waren. So war nicht nur das Heiligtum des Micha auch ein

6) Zu diesem Verstandnis des Richteramtes vgl. auch K.-D. Schunck,

Volume du Congres Geneve 1965, 1966, S. 258 if. Will man diese These, die
m.E. gerade durch die Bezeichnung des Silo-Heiligtums als eine

wesentliche Bestatigung findet, nicht akzeptieren, so miiBte man in der
Anwendung der bD^H-Bezeichnung auf das Heiligtum von Silo eine Riick-
iibertragung der Benennung des Jerusalemer Tempels auf das Heiligtum,
das vor Jerusalem ebenfalls schon die Lade beherbergte, erblicken.

7) Die von T. Oestreicher, a.a.O. S. 15 ff. gebrauchte Umschreibung als
,Reichstemper ist miBverstandlich und sollte besser vermieden werden;
auch die Heiligtiimer in Bethel und Dan waren Reichsheiligtiimer (vgl.
H. W. Hertzberg, RGG III, 3 i959, Sp. 158), insofern sie vom Konig direkt
eingerichtet wurden und uberlokale Bedeutung hatten.

8) Vgl. hierzu 1. Kg 16, 32; Hos 8, 5 f.; 2.Kg 10, 18-27.

9) 1. Kg 16, 32; 2. Kg 10, 18-27. I n Am 8, 3, wo von einem die

Rede ist, ist m.E. die Bedeutung ,Palast’ vorzuziehen; vgl. dazu auch
E. Sellin, Das Zwolfprophetenbuch, 3 i929, S. 249. 252, der zug^ich niT’tZ?
als DY"lt 2 ? = ^urstinnen’ liest oder T. H. Robinson in: Robinson/Horst, Die
Zwolf Kleinen Propheten , 3 i964, S. 100.

10) Vgl. Ps 27, 4; 65, 5; 5, 8 u.o.

Zentralheiligtum, Grenzheiligtum und *Hdhenheiligtum* in Israel

rP2 (Ri 17, 5), sondern es wurden auch das Heiligtum von
Lais/Dan OVlVxn TV’S (Ri 18, 31 em.), das Heiligtum von Bethel
rvo (Am 7, 13) und das Heiligtum von Mizpa m?P 2 V 3 (Jer
41, 5) genannt. Der Ausdruck HITT rva (und Parallelen) stellt
also einen iiber Vdvi hinausreichenden, noch weiteren bzw. all-
gemeineren Begriff dar. Wenn daher das sachlich einen
darstellende Zentralheiligtum des Nordreiches Israel im AT doch
nur als Vsnn TVO bezeichnet wird, so ist dies einerseits nicht falsch,
diirfte sich andererseits aber aus einer polemischen Tendenz des
Siidreiches Juda gegen das nicht Jahwe, sondern Baal dienende
Zentralheiligtum in Samaria erklaren und liegt so auf der gleichen
Linie wie die Abwertung der von Jerobeam in Bethel und Dan
errichteten Heiligtiimer und ihrer Kultsymbole. Es ist in diesem
Zusammenhang m.E. sehr aufschluBreich, daB das AT das Wort
hwi auch niemals fur irgend einen auslandischen, einer fremden
Gottheit dienenden Tempel gebraucht n ).

Stellt der Ausdruck HUT TY*a (par.) nun aber eine iiber VD'H
hinausgehende Bezeichnung fur noch weitere israelitische Heilig-
tiimer dar, so erhebt sich die Frage nach der Art und der Abgren-
zung dieser weiteren Heiligtiimer. Sind diese vielleicht mit den
DIM, den sog. ,HohenheiligtumenT, bzw. den gelegentlich mit
diesen in Verbindung genannten Gebauden, den DIM TO 12 ), iden-
tisch ? Eine derartige Annahme wird m.E. sogleich eindeutig bei
einer Nebeneinanderstellung von Am 7, 13 und Jos 24, 26 neben
Am 7, 9 ausgeschlossen. Wie Am 7, 13 13 ) und wohl auch Jos 24, 26 14 )
zeigen, konnten die als mrr rvo (par.) bezeichneten Heiligtiimer
ebenso gut auch mit dem Begriff EHpfc erfaBt werden. Ein ttnpfc aber

11) Auch in Joel 4, 5, wo man friiher gern an einen auslandischen Tempel
dachte, ist ein Palast gemeint; so auch T. H. Robinson, a.a.O. S. 66 und
H. W. Wolff, Dodekapropheton, Joel (BK XIV 5), 1963, S. 85.

12) 1. Kg 12, 31 u. 6., der Sache nach auch 1. Sam 9, 22.

13) Anders hier jedoch E. Sellin, a.a.O. S. 254.

14) Jos 24, 26 spricht von einem (iTUT) in Sichem, wahrend Ri

9, 4 dort ein *7173 rv >3 kennt. Gegen H.-J. Kraus, Oottesdienst in Israel ,
21962, S. 160 handelt es sich dabei um die gleiche Anlage, wie schon aus der
Erwahnung der nVK CpVtf) in Jos 24, 26 und Ri 9, 6 hervorgeht. Die Zuwei-
sung an Jahwe in Jos 24, 26 erklart sich dabei wohl aus der spateren deu-
teronomistischen Uberarbeitung von Jos 24. Oder sollte die Uberlieferung
von Jos 24 urspriinglich iiberhaupt nicht mit Sichem, sondern mit Bethel
verbunden gewesen sein ?

136

K. D. Schunck

war auf jeden Fall von einer zu unterscheiden; Am 7, 9 macht
es ganz deutlich, daB die Worte und HM zwei parallel neben-
einander stehende, niemals aber miteinander identische Formen
von Kultstatten bezeichnen, wenn es dort heiBt: ,,Die DIM Isaaks
werden verwiistet, und die ‘’ttnpfc Israels werden zerstort; . .

Daraus ergibt sich, daB die schon genannten, mit dem Wort
TVO umschriebenen Heiligtiimer auf keinen Fall mit einer HM oder
dem in dieser gelegentlich errichteten Gebaude zu verbinden sind. 15 )
Diese n^-Heiligtiimer miissen vielmehr eine Gruppe von Heilig-
tiimern meinen, die in ihrer Anlage und Funktion weitgehend dem
l 7 D* , n-Heiligtum entsprechen, jedoch nicht dessen besondere Stellung
als Zentralheiligtum und damit zugleich dessen enge raumliche
Verbindung mit dem Palast des Herrschers aufweisen.

Welche Funktion hatten diese Heiligtiimer? Im Gegensatz zu
dem Heiligtum von Samaria waren die beiden bedeutenden
Heiligtiimer des Nordreiches Israel in Bethel und Dan mit Jahwe
verbunden 16 ), obwohl sie in dem Kultsymbol, einem bw = Jung-
stier, mit Samaria durchaus iibereinstimmten 17 ). Beide Heilig¬
tiimer, das in Bethel wie das in Dan, waren ein Q' , nVxn JVO 18 );
sie konnten aber auch, wie Am 7, 13 erkennen laBt, als HDVftfc rvo
bzw. t Vlpn bezeichnet werden. In diesem ,,Beinamen ,> kommt

zweifellos zum Ausdruck, daB es sich bei diesen Heiligtiimern um
vom Konig als dem obersten Leiter des gesamten Staatswesens
selbst eingerichtete, in ihrer Bedeutung iiber die jeweilige Ortschaft
bzw. ein ortliches Heiligtum weit hinausreichende Heiligtiimer
handelte. Wie bereits Y. Aharoni mit guten Griinden vermutete,
bildeten sie staatliche Grenzheiligtiimer, die—mit Grenzfestungen
verbunden—den Zweck verfolgten, neuen Grenzen gottliche wie
auch konigliche Autoritat zu verleihen 19 ). Neben Bethel und Dan
diirften so in Juda auch Beerseba sowie Geba und Mizpa, fiir das

15) Vgl. dagegen auch Mi 3, 12.

16) Vgl. 1. Kg 12, 28-29, dazu Am 7, 13 und Ri 18, 31 wo statt nVttf mit
BH App. ntSP 1 ? zu lesen ist.

17) Vgl. 1. Kg 12, 28-29 neben Hos 8, 5-6. Es ist bezeichnend fiir die
laxe, synkretistische Religionsauffassung im Nordreich, daB ein Stierbild
somit einmal mit Jahwe und ein anderes Mai mit Baal verbunden werden
konnte.

18) Vgl. Ri 18, 31 (em.)

19) Vgl. Y. Aharoni, a.a.O. S. 29 f.

Zentralhciligturn, Grenzhciligturn und ‘Hohenhciligtum’ in Israel

Jer 41, 5 ja ausdriicklich ein mrp 2Y2 bezeugt, derartige Grenz-
heiligtiimer aufgewiesen haben 20 ); ein weiteres Heiligtum dieser
Art wurde bei den Ausgrabungen auf tell c arad, ostnordostlich von
Beerseba, an der GrenzstraBe nach Edom, ausgegraben 21 ).

Gerade dieser von der Archaologie geleistete Beitrag macht es
nun aber vollends deutlich, daB ein (D* , n l ?Kn) nvr IVO = ,,Gottes-
llaus ,, und eine HM = ,, Kulthohe” niemals miteinander identisch
oder miteinander verbunden sind 22 ). Das auf tell c arad freigelegte
Heiligtum, unter Konig Salomo errichtet, war eindeutig Nachfolger
einer alteren offenen Kulthohe und bestand nun aus einem den
Aufbau des Jerusalemer Tempels aufnehmenden Gotteshaus. Das
heiBt, auf dem Gelande der alten Kulthohe war nun ein iiber-
dachter Breitraum, aus dessen westlicher Langseite eine erhohte
Celia hervorsprang, errichtet worden, eben das niTT rP 3 im engeren
Sinne, wahrend die ostlich anschlieBende Flache als Hofraum mit
einem Brandopferaltar diente und zusammen mit dem den
bildete 23 ). Hier wird also ganz klar erkennbar, wie ein konig-
liches Grenzheiligtum aussah: Es war eine dem Jerusalemer Tempel
bzw. dem Zentralheiligtum analoge Anlage mit einem in ganz
bestimmten MaBen angelegten Gotteshaus. Was diese Heilig-
tiimer vom Zentralheiligtum unterschied, war die fehlende Ver-
bindung mit der koniglichen Residenz sowie im Bezug auf den
Tempel von Jerusalem das Fehlen des Kultsymbols der Lade.

20) Geba und Mizpa werden 1. Kg 15, 22 als nordliche Grenzorte Judas
seit Konig Asa von Juda genannt; Beerseba und Geba sind nach 2. Kg
23, 8 Grenzorte Judas in der Friihzeit Konig Josias. Von Amazja von Juda
bis Josia gehorte Geba m.E. nicht zu Juda (vgb dazu 2. Kg 14, 8 ff. sowie
K.~D. Schunck, Benjamin (BZAW 86), 1963, S. 161), so daB in dieser Zeit
allein Mizpa die Nordgrenze Judas bezeichnete. Geba ist mit dscheba c zu
verbinden, nicht aber mit tell el-ful; ein Zusammenhang mit der HM von
1. Sam 10, 5 ff. enfallt daher.

21) Vgl. Y. Aharoni, a.a.O. S. 2 ff.

22) Wenn in 2. Kg 23, 15 von einer HM in Bethel, die Jerobeam er-
richtete, gesprochen wird, so handelt es sich hier m.E. um eine polemisch
abwertende Korrektur; auch BH App. halt schon das den Text iiberladende
Wort PIM fur einen spateren Zusatz.

23) Das Verstandnis des Begriffs ist im AT wohl nicht ganz fest

umrissen gewesen. fiber den Sinai-Berg (Ex 15, 17) und die Lade bzw. das
Zelt (Ex 25, 8; Num 3, 38; 10, 21; 18, 1) bezeichnet das Wort ein Gotteshaus
oder den Tempel (Ez 8, 6; 9, 6; K 1 1, 10; Ps 68, 36; Lev 12, 4; Dan 8, 11
u. 6.) bzw. die Statte dieses Gotteshauses (Jos 24, 26; Jes 60, 13; Jer 17, 12)
sowie die heiligen Gerate darin (Jer 51, 51) und die heilige Gabe (Num 18, 29).

K. D. Schunck

138

Ich bin daher der Ansicht, daB wir in diesen koniglichen Grenz-
heiligtiimern trotz Parallelen in Anlage und Funktion eine von dem
jeweiligen Zentralheiligtum = ebenso klar und eindeutig wie
von den zahlreichen Ortsheiligtiimern = HIM zu unterscheidende
dritte groBe Gruppe israelitischer Heiligtiimer erblicken diirfen.
Obwohl sie sich in den Bezeichnungen ffiiP IT’S und Enpft eng mit
dem zusammenschlieBen, sollte man sie zur besseren Abhebung
von dieser ersten Gruppe m.E. nicht als ,,Temper', sondern all-
gemeiner nur als ,,Gotteshaus” bezeichnen.

Den von den Vokabeln Vdti, mrr rva (und EHpfc) bezeichneten
beiden Gruppen von Heiligtiimern steht dann die unter dem
Wort HM zusammengefaBte Gruppe der sog. Hohenheiligtiimer
bzw. Kulthohen gegeniiber. T. Oestreicher umschrieb diese
Heiligtiimer im Gegeniiber zum Vdyi = Reichstempel auch als
Ortsheiligtiimer 24 ). So sehr diese Bezeichnung auch der Tatsache
Rechnung tragt, daB eine in fast jeder noch so kleinen israeli-
tischen Ortschaft anzutreffen war, so wenig fangt sie doch den
Sachverhalt in seiner ganzen Breite auf. Schon am Beispiel der
sog. ,,GroBen Bamah ,, von Gibeon (vgl. 1. Kg 3, 4) wird dies deut-
lich: Dieser HM kam noch z. Zt. Konig Salomos eine iiber den
lokalen Bereich weit hinausreichende Bedeutung zu 25 ), die sich
m.E. aus einer zentralen Stellung der Kulthohe von Gibeon in der
Zeit Konig Sauls, als der Tempel von Silo zerstort und die Lade
verloren war, ableiten diirfte 26 ). Aber auch die Tatsache, daB es
in zahlreichen Konigtiimern vorisraelitischer wie israelitischer Zeit
iiberhaupt nur eine als kultische Statte gab 27 ), mahnt hier
zur Vorsicht. Andererseits bringt freilich auch die Bezeichnung
als ,,Hbhenheiligtum” bzw. als ,,Kulthohe” den Charakter der
nicht hinreichend zum Ausdruck; es ist seit langem allgemein
anerkannt, daB eine HM keineswegs immer auf einer Gelandeer-

24) T. Oestreicher, a.a.O, S. 7 ff.

25) Vg 1 - 1. Kg 3,4 ff.

26) Die These, dah die Bamah von Gibeon z.Zt. Sauls Zentralheiligtum
gewesen sei, hangt eng mit der Annahme zusammen, da !3 Saul kurz vor
seinem Tod seine Residenz nach Gibeon verlegte (vgl. dazu genauer K.-
D. Schunck, Benjamin, 1963, S. 132 ff., auch A. Bruno, Gibeon, 1923, S. 48 ff.).

27) Das hat wohl auch noch fur Hebron und Jerusalem z.Zt. Davids zu
gelten. Im iibrigen vgl. zur Anlage von Megiddo, die von ca. 2500-1700
v. Cbr. in Gebrauch war, G. E. Wright, BA 13, 1950, S. 32 f.

Zentralheiligtmn, Grensheiligtum und ‘Hohenheiligtum’ in Israel 139

hebung, einer Anhohe, gelegen hat 28 ). Und bedenkt man hierzu
noch, dab nach den Feststellungen von W. F. Albright die Has
in zahlreichen Fallen auch als Grabheiligtum diente 29 ), so sollte
man hier vielleicht besser nur von einem offenen Kultplatz sprechen.

Gegen diese Umschreibung scheint nun freilich die Tatsache zu
sprechen, daB das AT mehrfach von einem mas ms bzw. von
mas *TD redet 30 ). Was ist damit gemeint ? Ich bin der Ansicht,
daB hier die Aussage von i. Sam 9, 22 den Weg zum rechten Ver-
standnis weisen kann, wenn hier namlich von einer Halle (rDttfb),
in der man speist, die Rede ist. Dieser Raum aber lag, wie der
Kontext in 1. Sam 9, 12-14.19 ganz eindeutig erkennen laBt, auf
einer nan und diente zur Einnahme von Opfermahlzeiten (vgl. vv
12-13.23). Die nan wies also—zumindest in mehreren Fallen—als
Bestandteil ihres kultischen Bereichs noch ein Gebaude fur die
Opfermahle auf,—ob dies eine Halle oder nur eine Hiitte oder ein
massiver Raum war, ist dabei von untergeordneter Bedeutung 31 ).

Die Existenz eines solchen Opferspeiseraumes auf einer nan,
etwa in einer Ecke des Kultplatzes, kann umso weniger uberra-
schen, wenn man bedenkt, daB der wesentlichste Bestandteil einer
nan immer ein Altar fur die Opfer war 32 ). Nur am Rande sei hier
darauf verwiesen, daB das griechische Wort pcofioc; wohl nicht nur
rein zufallig an das kanaanaisch-hebraische Wort nan anklingt 33 ),
ja, daB das Wort nan im AT geradezu auch in der Bedeutung
,,Altar’ ’ stehen kann, wenn man darunter eine Erhebung zum

28) Vgl. Jer 7, 31; Ez 6, 3; 2. Kg 23, 5.8.

29) W. F. Albright, Volume du Congres Strasbourg 1956 ( SVT 4), 1957,
S. 242 ff.

30) Vgl. 1. Kg 12, 31; 13, 32; 2. Kg 17, 29. 32; 23, 19.-1. Kg 12, 31 ist
gegen Y. Aharoni, a.a.O. S. 28 keineswegs auf die Heiligtiimer von Bethel
und Dan zu beziehen; 12, 30 bezeichnet deutlich das Ende der darauf be-
zogenen Aussage. In 2. Kg 17, 29. 32 aber, wo von einem Gottesbild im
maa ms gesprochen wird, handelt es sich gerade um ein Gottesbild der
fremden Neuansiedler im Gebiet des ehemaligen Nordreiches.

31) Auch W. F. Albright, a.a.O. S. 248 lehnt eine Ubersetzung von
maS mS als ,,temple of high places” ab; doch versteht er den Ausdruck
dann wiederum als Bezeichnung fur das aus Begrabnisstelen gebildete
Heiligtum.

32) Vgl. 2. Kg 21, 3; 2. Chr 14, 2; Ez 6,6.

33 ) Vgl. dazu genauer R. de Vaux, Das Alte Testament und seine Leben-
ordnungen II, 1962, S. 289.

140

Schunck, Zentral-, Grenz- und *Hdhenheiligtum’ in Israel

kultischen Gebrauch versteht 34 ). Altar und Opferspeiseraum auf
der naa stehen also miteinander in sachlicher Beziehung; wie man
einerseits den Anted Jahwes beim D'aVtP rut auf dem Altar ver-
brannte 35 ), so wurde ja andererseits der dem Opfernden zukom-
mende Anted an den Fleischstucken von diesem zusammen mit
seiner Familie so wie Eingeladenen verzehrt,—das aber geschah
doch an heiliger Statte, eben auf dem Kultplatz.

Es ist damit wohl ganz deutlich, welcher grundlegende Unter-
schied zwischen einem mrp TV’S bzw. einem auf der einen

Seite und einem maa IT’D auf der anderen Seite bestand: Das eine
,,Haus” ist Wohnstatte Gottes, in der Gott Opfer dargebracht
und in der Gott angebetet wird, das andere „Haus M ist nur ein
Raum, in dem man das mit Gott in Verbindung bringende Opfer
iBt. Dieser Unterschied hebt freilich nicht auf, daB sie alle, Tempel,
Gotteshaus und Kultplatz = bDVl, miT’ TV’S und naa, die eine groBe
Bestimmung verbindet: Heilige Statte fur Jahwe zu sein. Ja,
gerade die naa diirfte es dabei gewesen sein, auf der allein Israel
in Zeiten politischer Bedrangnis und Abhangigkeit seinen Gott
verehren und so seine Religion bewahren konnte.

34) Vgl. dazu R. de Vaux, a.a.O. S. 101; 249. Es ist in diesem Zusam-
menhang auch zu beachten, daB das AT verschiedentlich auch von einem
,,bauen”, ,,umstiirzen” und ^zerstoren” der naa sprechen kann (vgl. 1. Kg
11, 7; 2. Kg 23, 8; Ez 6, 3 u.o.).

35) Vgl. dazu genauer R. Rendtorff, Studien zuv Geschichte des Opfers im
Alten Israel, 1967, S. 119 ft.

THE GEOGRAPHIZATION OF DEATH

IN MELANESIA*)

KARL W. LUCKERT

Flagstaff, Arizona U.S.A.

Descent in Stages to Non-Being

The experience of death in its minimal dimension may offer man
only the prospect of reversal of life to non-being. A small number of
Melanesian peoples submit to this fate. But, as if to cushion the shock
of sudden extinction, they submit to it only gradually and in stages—by
installments, so to speak. In mythical language this usually implies a
gradual descent in vertical space to lower and lower levels of existence.
The geographization of death has not yet become an option for these
mortals.

One of man’s greatest assets is his ability to use his mind in an
analytic-scientific fashion. In practical life, if a year is too long to
worry about, man settles for living one day at a time; if an entire field
requires too much toil he divides his activity into acres and spadefuls.
Such practical measures may at first glance seem unrelated to the
mental processes of analysis and abstraction, but upon closer examina¬
tion it appears that man’s ability of conceptually dividing reality into
particulars and of envisioning them together as a new whole is precisely
what made him master over other creatures.

When this ambitious mortal faces death in terms of complete reversal
to non-being, his analytic mind habitually attempts to break down this
process into stages. Partial change is easier to face than complete
extinction. There are in Melanesia sporadic instances where people
have adhered to a pure analysis of stages towards non-being.

So for instance, in the afterworld of the Kai people, New Guinea,
the life of ghosts proceeds in a fashion similar to life among the living.

*) This essay summarizes a portion of my dissertation, Mythical Geographies
of the Dead in Melanesia, University of Chicago, 1969. Because detailed reference
notes have been provided there, only a few important notations are made here.

142

Karl W. Luckert

Human continuity is asserted even to such a degree that mortality is
copied there. The ghosts who die there drop to a lower level of
existence, becoming cuscus or some other wild animals. When these
animal bodies then die, they will sink to an existence of termites or
other insects. Their next death is the end. x ) The people of Little Mala
continue to live as ghosts in their Malapa island afterworld. If their
power is exhausted they turn into white ants’ nests and so become
food for the still vigorous ghosts. 1 2 ) This means that when their
remaining powers have been surrendered to more recent and vigorous
ghosts, they cease to exist. The Nguna dead go first to Pokasi, the
uppermost underworld for ghosts. Pokasi is a place in which there is
plenty of meat to eat. When the ghosts die away from this Place of
Meat, they get entangled in the next lower Place of Roots. Another
death lowers them to Stinking Place, where they are lost sight of. 3 )

Thus, gradual descent in vertical space to lower and lower levels of
existence is often accompanied by mortal man’s transformation into
various shapes of animals—cuscus, eels, snakes, termites, ants. The
idea of sinking downward in space is paralleled by the idea of sinking
to levels of lower species. The first of these ideas involves spacial
conceptualization, the second concerns the quality of existence. From
a historical point of view these two modes of “descent” may be
traced and studied separately. The transformation of human life into
animal life can easily be traced to the wide-spread hunters’ awareness
of pre-human flux. 4 ) Descent in vertical space represents mortal
man’s hopeless groping for the continuation of his life in the wrong
spacial direction.

Pre-Human Flux and the Underworld

Return to a condition of pre-human flux, if it is not defeated by
descent in vertical space, represents mortal man’s first victory in

1) Christian Keysser, „Aus dem Leben der Kaileute,” R. Neuhauss, Deutsch
Neu-guinea. Vol. III. Berlin: D. Reimer, 1911, pp. 112, 149-155.

2) R. H. Codrington. The Melanesians. New Haven: Hraf Press, 1957, pp. 250,
260 ff., 288.

3) A. Capell, “The Stratification of Afterworld Beliefs in the New Hebrides,”
Folklore, XLIX (London, 1938), pp. 70 f.

4) In my dissertation, cited above, I have used the term “pre-anthropogonic
flux.” For general publication I now prefer the more simple “pre-human flux”
without, of course, negating its association with the anthropogony.

The geographization of death in Melanesia

143

struggling for the continuity of his life. “Pre-human flux” or “pre-
anthropogonic flux” are terms which I have coined first in relation
to hunter-fisher cosmogonies; and the basic myth which depicts the
pre-human flux of the hunter-fisher world does not occur in Melanesia
anymore in its pure form. There it has been overlaid by myths of
the paleo-planters. Nevertheless, its basic theme is still identifiable: In
the beginning, prior to the event which created the present world order,
the differentiation between man and animals had not yet occurred;
no distinction could be made between human and animal shapes, and
men and animals still spoke a common language. The cosmogonic event
has fixed both human and animal appearances, and/or their languages,
to the shapes and forms in which they now occur.

By the use of two examples I shall try to illustrate the change which
has come about in the cosmogonic narrative, when the myth was taken
from the hunter-fisher context and adapted to the world of the
paleo-cultivators. Since theriomorphic beliefs are found all over the
world, I feel justified in looking for clearer examples outside of the
immediate Melanesian realm where a variety of mixed beliefs now
dazzles the researcher.

A rather pure hunter-fisher cosmogony has been recorded among
peoples of the American Northwest Coast: In the beginning of the
present world-order, Raven, formerly a white bird, released the sun.
The pre-anthropogonic night was transformed into daylight. All the
“people” fled apart. Those who at that moment wore furs, skins,
scales, feathers, became fur animals on land and in water, fish and
birds respectively. Moreover, the cosmogonic event even caught and
fixed Raven himself in the black feathers he wore at the time. 5 )
The myth leaves no doubt that the common ancestors of men and animals
lived in a state of pre-human, or for that matter, pre-animal flux. For
a later comparison with planter cosmogonies it is significant that death
occupies no important place yet in this hunter-fisher cosmogony.

In the world of the planters man was forced to realign his categories
of existence. Man himself assumed more and more responsibility for the
processes of creation. While the hunter had no direct control over the
beginning of animal life—he generally depended on gifts from the

5) John R. Swanton, “Tlingit Myths and Texts,” Bull., Bureau of American
Ethnology, XXXIX (Washington, 1909), pp. 3 ff, 80 ff.

144

Karl IV. Luckert

Lord of Animals—the planter assumed full responsibility over both the
beginning and the end of life. In the case of tubers, the beginning of
new plant life required dissection or “killing” before planting. Creation
and death became thus identical, and man the planter accepted the power
and responsibility over both. 6 ) In this manner, a change in the human
experience of life-sustaining reality has broadened the cosmogonic myth
to where the creative significance of death could be included.

This broadening of the hunter-fisher cosmogony is best illustrated
in a myth of the Wemale people, Ceram, which was made famous by
Adolf Jensen. Hainuwele, a dema -divinity was killed. Her body was cut
into pieces and the pieces, buried at different locations, grew into tubers.
The arms of Hainuwele became the door which divided the dema from
mortal human beings. Back then ( damals ) the leading dema- divinity,
Mulua Satene, assembled all people by a nine-fold spiral maze. Each
person who made it through and past the arms of Hainuwele was a
human being; those who failed were the pigs, deer, birds, fish, or
spirits who now live in the world alongside man. 7 )

Significant for our understanding of the Hainuwele myth, as already
stated, is the role of death in the creative event. From the dissected
parts of Hainuwele’s body grew the alimentary plants, and her arms
thenceforth separated the afema-world from the world of mortals.
Moreover, a single passing through the gate “back then” made all the
difference between now being man or animal. Could this imply that
present-day mortals who fail to pass through the door when they die
become animals also? Or, more consistently, are dema and animals
here in some sense identical? At any rate, death here means passing

6) Carl Schmitz has lamented the overgrowth of ancestor cults over Melanesian
cosmogonies as a degeneration of religion. Understandably, he was led to this
conclusion by his overly narrow definitions, of Kultus as appropriation of
Schopfungskraft, and of Religionsmuster in terms of the creation of cosmos, man,
and culture. In my view this accounts for only half of Melanesian religiosity.
Half of the planters cosmogony, as I shall demonstrate, is involved in the subject
of death. I cannot join Schmitz in writing off this important half of Melanesian
religion as Schmarotzerpflanze or Stadium des Niederganges. See Carl A. Schmitz.
Historische Probleme in Nor dost-Neuguinea. Wiesbaden: F. Steiner, i960, pp.
34 6 - 35 1.

7) Dema are divine creators and primordial beings from mythical times,
assuming human, animal, and plant forms. See Mircea Eliade, From Primitives to
Zen (New York: Harper and Row, 1967), pp. 18 ff. Adolf Jensen, „Das religiose
Weltbild einer fruhen Kultur,” Studien zur Kulturkunde, IX (Stuttgart: A.
Schroeder, 1948), pp. 37 f*

The geographization of death in Melanesia

145

through the door, means also transformation into another form, means
at the same time return to the dema- world. Prior to his first passage
through the door, the human being was neither man nor animal, but lived
with the potentiality of becoming fixed as either. This state of affairs
is completely identical with the pre-human flux depicted in our hunter-
fisher cosmogony.

The hunter’s awareness of pre-human flux is spacially neutral. The
animals surround the hunter on all sides, and no fixed geographical
frame of reference is possible in relation to them. The animal’s where¬
about is always a matter of uncertainty. Quite different is the experience
of the planter. Planting is an exercise in precise geography: the seed
plant dies in a specific place, and the new plant rises at the same spot.
Thus, it needs not surprise us when the Wemale planters become aware
of a door to the underworld. Moreover, the geographical hope of the
Wemale planter did not stop with knowing about the entrance to the
underworld—a nine-fold spiral path has been developed which guar¬
antees for the initiated a sure entry through the gate. A spiral path,
even before the age of space travel, has been the surest spacial pattern
for zeroing in on a particular point of hope.

Survivals of pre-human flux are very widespread in Melanesia, but
they are remembered no longer in relation to cosmogonic myths. Rather,
because of the planters’ identification of death with the creation of new
life the “creative” flux at the beginning of time has become associated
with the “creative” flux which awaits man after the moment of his
death. This association of ideas is logically consistent and in harmony
with the planter’s experience; and it is precisely this association of
ideas which sent mortal man on his way toward groping for the con¬
tinuity of his life in the geographical dimension. The path and the
gate which lead to mortal man’s next place represent this groping for
geography in Melanesian eschatological thought.

The Struggle for Surface Existence

“Life in space,” conceived religiously by man as within greater-than-
human space, can also be approached analytically as moments in places.
From this perspective “life in space” appears as a composite of places.
An individual mortal always knows himself as one who is presently at

Numen XVIII

146

Karl W. Luckert

his place; he encounters others as belonging to their places. A change
from one condition of life into another is always associated with at least
a minimal amount of movement in space. But in contrast to changes of
conditions and emotions, a change of place is experienced much more
vividly. While changes of conditions and emotions can only be recalled
conceptually, changes of place are concretely retraceable. This is why
geographical space rates so high in man’s struggle for continuity.
Geographical sites define man’s fellow others during his life-time, they
also define his own previous places of experience. In like manner, man’s
future existence is anticipated in relation to other places. Below I
shall discuss such places, namely, glimpses of the other side by
Melanesion peoples. But first it must be mentioned that man’s
encounter with his “other places” takes shape simultaneously in all
directions—east, west, north, south, upward, and downward. All
attempts in classification are somewhat arbitrary on this account.
Nevertheless, different people in different sets of circumstances search
primarily either earthward, skyward, or scan their horizons. This does
not preclude the possibility that within certain cultures a variety of
afterworld beliefs is represented. But once a people have gotten a
sufficiently clear glimpse of their other place there is no need for them
to scatter their attention any longer. Wherever the searching mortal
sees some distinct outlines of the other side, he can begin developing
a body of knowledge about this particular place.

Caves. — An exclusive belief in a cave-underworld, as a place for
re-uniting after death with one’s friends, is difficult to find anymore
in Melanesia. Where it seems to be the only existing belief, our scanty
sources do not justify a definite conclusion. Yet, its association with
older customs or people leaves no doubt that formerly it belonged to
a more popular system of beliefs. In most cases the cave-underworld has
met with competition from surface afterworlds or, at least, from after-
worlds which are reached by a surface journey.

Many people of New Ireland still believe in a large cave-underworld.
But elsewhere the journey of the dead in geographical space has
rendered many a cave-underworld obsolete. In northeastern Malekula
the Vao dead still are met in a Cave of the Dead by their dead relatives,
but their neighbors, the At chin and Wala people, when they are dead
no longer bother to receive new ghosts in the Cave of the Dead. Here
a former cave-underworld has become a stopping-place along the way

The geographization of death in Melanesia

14 7

to the volcano-afterworld of Ambrim. The Fijian abode of Ndengei,
of the serpent who rules over the dead, has likewise been transformed
from a cave-underworld into a stopping-place. The parting ghosts of
western Melanesian immigrants hurriedly pass through Ndengei’s cave
in order to dive into the sea and swim westward. 8 )

The struggle for a life after death on the surface is well illustrated
by the stratification of Paparatavan ghosts, New Britain. Ninety-nine
per cent of all the people, and all commoners, join the tabarans in the
underworld. Only a few privileged and prominent dead manage to
remain on the surface. 9 )

Volcanoes. — As has just been seen, the cave-underworld of the
north-eastern Malekulans has been reduced to a stopping-place, and
the dead of Vao, Atchin, and Wala now journey across the sea to the
Ambrim volcano. Quite clearly, a volcano afterworld has lured the
dead away from a post-existence in caves. Thus, historically for these
particular people the volcano afterworld came later.

Volcanoes are perhaps the most spectacular geographical features, and
the most awesome. So it seems that in a given locality, if tradition has
not been shaped elsewhere, the greatest mystery has received the honor
of housing the mystery of human post-mortem existence. Volcanoes are
well qualified to serve this function.

Thus, some Nakanai people on New Britain go to E-Pago, an after-
world volcano. When a ghost arrives there, much cooking and feasting
is going on in both worlds. In a similar fashion, the volcano Tupai
(Balbi) of northern Bougainville contains the afterworld of the Buka
people. Again the volcanic smoke and fire are interpreted to the effect
that food is being cooked below. The poisons of magicians, causing
internal fires and death, are also linked to the cooking activity inside
Tupai. A discussion of Melanesian volcano afterworlds would be in¬
complete without the most conspicuous of them all, Bagana or Bareka of
Bougainville. The dead from several Shortland Islands—Mono, Alu,
Fauru—undertake an identical journey to Bagana, starting from Hina

8) John Layard. Stone Men of Malekula. London: Chatto and Windus, 1942,
pp. 226 ff., 230 ff. Also Basil H. Thompson. The Fijians. London: W. Heinemann,
1908, pp. 117L

9) P. A. Kleintitschen, „Mythen und Erzahlungen eines Melanesierstammes...,”
Anthropos-Bibliothek , II (Wien, 1924), iv, pp. 92 ff.

148

Karl IV. Luckert

Island. 10 ) But among these Melanesian groups the volcano afterworld
has already ceased to be a destination. It has become a stopping-place,
a place of recovery and rest for the ghosts before they return to live
again on their respective home islands.

Thus, the volcano afterworld, which on Malekula has won out over
the cave-underworld and which has transformed the latter into a
stopping-place, was forced to surrender in the case of Bagana some of
its residents to the home islands of the living. The volcano, too, was
reduced to function as a mere stopping-place. It has become clear, there¬
fore, that no glimpse of the other side is forever guaranteed, not even
that of spectacular volcano afterworlds. While an earlier stratum of
Melanesian mortals seems to have gone to an afterlife underground,
later movements of culture have affirmed surface travel or even sur¬
face existence after death. We shall therefore briefly observe a variety
of glimpses of surface afterworlds—in rocks, woods, and ravines, on
mountains and islands.

Rocks. — The belief that the ghosts of the dead reside in rocks is on
record from a few places in Melanesia. But generally speaking, the
restricted residence of ghosts in rocks does not seem to be a very
appealing prospect to Melanesian mortals. At the same time, some
rocky places have come to function as homes to which wandering ghosts
may gravitate.

The kaia , ghosts of a few elect Paparatavan mortals of New Britain,
reside in large boulders which are strewn over the countryside. 11 ) It
is significant to note that the Paparatavan people are still engaged in a
struggle for continuity in vertical space. The kaia are ghosts quite
superior to the mostly underground tabarans of the commoners. Here,
life on the surface clearly implies superiority, and only a few elect
ghosts attain this privilege. The struggle for horizontal and geographical
continuity has not yet begun.

The Melanesian mortal, after having achieved an afterlife in a rock
on the surface, does then continue his struggle in a geographical dimen¬
sion. So for example, a minority opinion on Aneitum Island has it that
the ghosts will go to reside in stones, from which small chips must be

10) Gerald C. Wheeler, ‘‘An Account of the Death Rites and Eschatology of
the Bougainville Strait,” Archiv filr Religionswissenschaft , XVII (Leipzig, 1914),
pp. 91 ff., 102 ff., no f.

n) Kleintitschen, pp. 304-317, 98 f.

The geographization of death in Melanesia

149

broken to provide entrance ways. A commoner Arosi ghost of San
Christoval, on the other hand, still chips off a bit from the rock
Hauihaiha; he enters and finds that from this point the road continues
and branches for different clans. While some geographical expansion
beyond the rock is thus available to commoners, the chiefs anymore
use their rock only as a platform from which to dive into the sea in
order to swim to a distant island afterworld. 12 ) Thus, in varying
degrees, the limited volume of the rock has been overcome by the
geographical space which expands beyond it. Rocks, at the same time,
are not only places in which Melanesian ghosts may feel constricted.
Once a horizontal journey of the dead, the quest for geographical
space, has been won, conspicuous rocks may still provide points in
space where the wandering ghosts can find a place of rest, a home. Such
is the case on Goodenough Island, where the ghosts of the Kutua people
go to Taleba, a rocky point just outside their district.

The idea of rocks containing a home for the dead may seem curious
to many a modern apartment dweller in a concrete city. We have learned
to use rocks for exclusively materialistic purposes; moreover, we have
learned to make artificial rocks. But precisely because our attitude
toward rocks is conditioned by the use our culture makes of them, we
must allow the premodern peoples of Melanesia to contemplate the
mystery of their boulders. What other function could these silent blocks
possibly have, aside from containing the silent mystery of human life
and death!

Woods. — By looking at the prospect of an afterlife in rocks one
may have observed two distinct functions. Rocks may restrict the living
spaces of ghosts or they may serve to identify points at which the ghosts
may find a home. With regard to the woods, the latter function appears
to be the dominant one. In contrast to rocks, the woods are larger and
their shadowy boundaries are more difficult to define. Moreover, people
frequent the woods already during their lifetimes. A portion of the
human self-consciousness literally “remains” in the woods.

The Mbowamb image-soul, which after death becomes a ghost, already
dwells during a person’s lifetime as a reflected image in pools of water
or, alternately, it mingles as a playful shadow in the bush. A similar

12) Robert W. Williamson. Religious and Cosmic Beliefs of Central Polynesia.
IT. Cambridge: University Press, 1933. pp, n6f. And C. E. Fox. The Threshold
of the Pacific. London: Kegan, Trench, Trubner, 1924, pp. 234 ff.

Karl IV. Luckert

150

awareness, where human existence blends at death into the blurred
and shadowy twilight of the bush, is present among the Jabim people.
Their knowledge about the afterworld is very vague, but they know
that at night their woods abound in ghosts. 13 )

The realms of the Middle Wahgi and of the Paparatavan ghosts are
geographically better defined. The former go to ancestral, patrilineal
cemetaries. These places must be kept thickly overgrown with trees and
shrubs, for if they are kept otherwise the ghosts may refuse to stay
there. The two places which are identified by the Paparatavan people
as those of the middle-ranking tutana-vurakit ghosts, are overgrown
with bushes and thorns. 14 ) Thus, by being aware that not even ghosts
can live “in general”and in all the wooded places at once, some Mela¬
nesian peoples envision their future homes in specific and geographically
defined groves.

Ravines. — Ravines present mortal man with ambivalent meanings.
It must be recognized from the outset that their primary significance
lies not in providing a place for the continuance of human life, but
rather, that ravines are encountered primarily as ruptures in geographi¬
cal space. They are obstacles and perils on the road which threaten to
engulf and to extinguish the ghosts. In the very few instances, where
Melanesian ravines have been named as abodes of ghosts, they are
extensions of a shadowy underworld. The misery of these places appears
to have received its color from the ravine’s primary meaning, engulfing
those who drop there. Of three ranks among Paparatavan ghosts in
New Britain, the lowest and most miserable ghosts are represented both
in their underground realm and in certain deep ravines. The Usiai dead
on Manus Island go to afterworlds which are located in deep ravines of
the mountainous interior. The ghosts in these ravines lead a miserable
life, being in constant danger of final extinction. 15 )

Mountains. — Afterworld mountains in Melanesia are numerous if
the conspicuous volcano afterworlds are counted among them. But in this
essay I have chosen to maintain a distinction between surface and under-

13) Hermann Strauss and Herbert Tischner. Die Mi-Kultur der H age fiberg-
stamme. Hamburg: De Gruyter, 1962, pp. 138 f., 144f. And Heinrich Zahn, „Die
Jabim,” R. Neuhauss, Deutsch-Neu-Guinea. III. Berlin: D. Reimer, 1911, p. 324.

14) Louis J. Luzbetak. “Worship of the Dead in the Middle Wahgi,” Anthropos,
LI (Wien, 1956), pp. 81-96. And Kleintitschen, pp. 228-243.

15) Kleintitschen, pp. 92-1I10. And R. Parkinson. Dreissig Jahre in der Siidsee.
Stuttgart: Strecker and Schroeder, 1907, pp. 386 ff.

The geographization of death in Melanesia

ISI

ground realms. And since volcano afterworlds are generally under¬
ground, the number of afterworld mountains to be discussed in this
section is relatively small.

Hill-tops are first of all close to the bright sky, and so they participate
in its purity. Accordingly, the ghosts of the young Mafulu mountaineers,,
New Guinea, maintain on mountain tops a playful existence as shimmer¬
ing lights; older ghosts settle there to a fungus-like existence. The
wooded Normanby Island afterworld mountain, Bwebweso, features a
surface afterworld also. There is implied a definite advantage for
ghosts who live at the summit of this mountain. Not every ghost reaches
the top. Evil ghosts are destined to wander; the aged, the ugly, and the
sick are shaken into an abyss; diseased mortals slide into a swamp below
this afterworld mountain. 16 )

The mountain itself does not necessarily determine the condition of
the afterworld it houses. The proximity of the hill-top to the source of
light may improve but not guarantee its quality. So for instance, the
natives of isolated Rossel Island distinguish three realms for their dead:
two hills and the floors of lagoons which surround the island. In con¬
trast to the floors of lagoons, the two hill abodes are less desirable
places; they are associated with cannibalistic modes of life. The lagoons,
on the other hand, present a paradisiac alternative. 17 )

Whether the afterworld mountain is eventually understood as a good
or as a bad place, it nevertheless serves to define a place of human
destination. A mountain is a clearly visible landmark and its summit can
easily be seen and contemplated. This visible presence in the distance,
of mortal man’s next place, sooner or later transforms for him his
experience of death into some kind of surface travel.

Islands. — Perhaps the most distinct “other places” which mortal
Melanesians have discovered on the surface are their island after¬
worlds. An island, if viewed from neighboring land, presents itself as
man’s “other place” par excellence. There is a chaotic rupture between
the shore where the observer sits and the island which he envisions
in the distance. The “other side” of his own anticipated death, too, lies

16) Robert W. Williamson. The Mafulu Mountain People of British New
Guinea. London: Macmillan, 1912, pp. 267 ff. And R. F. Fortune. Sorcerers of
Dobu. London: Routledge & Sons, 1932, pp. 180 ff.

17) W. E. Armstrong. Rossel Island. Cambridge: University Press, 1928, pp.

115 ff-

1 S 2

Karl W. Luckert

in the distance. Distant places and distant conditions tend to blend into
one reality, and so mortal man discovers his other place. The experience
of death blends into an encounter with the sea, and both together must
be crossed as a rupture in an otherwise continuous life/space.

Not all islands of Melanesia have become afterworlds. But a number
of small and generally uninhabited islands have attracted mortal man's
attention and have been discovered as such. Not all Melanesian peoples
are equally prepared or situated for discovering an afterworld on an
island. Migration and nostalgic return of the ghosts of migrant peoples
seem to have been instrumental for the unique popularity of a few of
these afterworld islands—Kibu, Tuma, St. George, and Malapa. The
Nakanai people of Eaea village, on the other hand, seem to have been
attracted clearly by the sheer “otherness" of their afterworld island.
They go to the “other Eaea" on Lolobao Island. 18 ) The latter is a small
island off the New Britain coast, opposite Eaea.

It seems that some island afterworlds, like many other afterworlds
in Melanesia, have become stopping places when more attractive places
have lured the ghosts to move on. The Mono, Alu, and Fauru people,
who were mentioned above in connection with volcano afterworlds,
congregate after death at a small Shortland island Ilina. There is a
possibility that Ilina is the place where the ancestors of these peoples
have obtained a first foothold; but it is also possible that this island pre¬
sented itself momentarily as their “other place." However, their after-
world having for a time become fixed to a Bougainville volcano, Ilina,
could then have become incorporated as their common stopping-place
into an already syncretistic afterworld journey.

Geographization of the Death Experience

Not all peoples have learned to project their encounter with death
into ruptures of geographical space. Some, especially those who hope
to survive in the vicinity of the living, have surrendered to qualitative
changes instead. Others, especially migrant peoples who have learned
to change the conditions of their existence by changing their locales,
will naturally prefer a change of places to an alteration of their being.
They then envision their next home in the distance. But while their eyes

18) P. F. Hees, ,,Ein Beitrag aus den Sagen und Erzahlungen der Nakanai”,
Antkropos, X (Wien, 1915), p. 55 -

The geographization of death in Melanesia

r S 3

focus on this future dwelling place in the distance, the intermediary-
space, which the yearning mortal ignores in the process, develops into
a chaotic rupture. Death becomes geographized as a rupture in space.

Bodies of Water. — The most common rupture in Melanesian
mythical geographies of the dead is the sea. Many a mortal thinks of
his afterworld as being situated somewhere beyond the sea. This is the
natural result if island peoples yearn to join their kin who have died
before them at earlier homesteads.

The Torres Straits islanders, when they die, must cross the sea in
order to go to some western afterworld. The Bwaidoga ghosts of
southern Goodenough Island travel across the sea in order to reach
Fergusson Island. Trobriand ghosts sail to Tuma Island. Bugotu people,
as ghosts, fly across to their St. George Island afterworld; the Lau
people of Big Mala do the same. Ghosts from Little Mala, those from
Florida, Guadalcanal, and San Christoval, all cross the sea in order to
reach their island afterworld at Malapa. Northeastern Malekulan ghosts
are ferried across to Ambrim Island. And finally, the ghosts of
Melanesians on Fiji, after diving into the sea, swim to their distantly
remembered homeland in the west.

Rivers. — Rivers which must be crossed by the newly dead are less
common in Melanesia than are lakes, lagoons, or stretches of the sea.
Still, a few islands in Melanesia are large enough to develop significant
rivers and, consequently, the dead of some Melansian peoples must
cross rivers.

The crossing which changes the Marind-anim departed into an
officially dead person involves a river. In a similar way, before the dead
from the Shortlands can arrive at their volcano afterworld, they cross
the river Turino.No living man may cross this river. All instances where
the dead must cross rivers are clearly related to large islands, to New
Guinea and Bougainville. Small streams on small islands present for
man no significant ruptures in geographical space and are therefore
not very analogous with the momentous experience of death. But
wherever rivers must be crossed after death, whether these be Styx
or Jordan or some river in faraway Melanesia, they divide the living
from the dead; consequently, these so-perceived ruptures in geogra¬
phical space transform the experience of dying into the hopeful
adventure of crossing a river. And rivers can be crossed.

Ravines. — In an earlier section I have shown how deep ravines

i54

Karl W. Luckert

have on occasion been discovered as man’s other places. Nevertheless,

the primary significance of ravines in the mythical geographies of the

Melanesian dead is that they represent ruptures in traversable space.

The Fijian journey of the dead contains, among other ordeals, the
crossing of ravines. Aurora ghosts, at the crucial point of their journey,
come to two rocks with a deep ravine between them. He who leaps
across is forever dead. The Bugotu dead, when they have arrived at
their afterworld island, have yet to cross a deep chasm. Those who bear
the proper initiation marks succeed and need not fall into the abyss.
The final difficulty which a new-arrival to the Bwebweso afterworld
must overcome is a deep chasm; only the healthy and the noble are
able to go across.

Thus it appears that ravines and rivers have for wandering mortals
essentially the same meaning. Those who cross them must no longer
be counted among the living. Failure to make it across may signify
that persons are not yet actually dead, may mean judgment on the
uninitiated, or it may simply reveal their general weakness. After-
world geographies which contain ravines and rivers favor in them¬
selves those mortals whose bodies are strong. But, in general, man's
religious ceremonials have provided him with a destiny of greater
equality. The proper initiation, accumulated merit, and friendly helpers
from the other side, have lifted man above the mere condition of
survival of the fittest in ruptured space.

Vertical Drops. — When mortal man comes to ravines which are
too far across, having no auxiliary resources at his disposal, he must
descend. His experience of death no longer can be stretched out in
safe horizontal space; rather, he must contend with a vertical drop.
Tn this manner the Usiai dead descend into dark ravines to a spatially
and qualitatively lower level of existence.

Not all vertical drops entail the same consequences. It all depends
on the level at which one starts. While the Usiai dead drop from surface
level to the bottom of dark ravines, the souls of Buin people start a
story higher. Their soul-bird flies to the tree of life, at death it plucks
its leaf and subsequently descends to the bottom of the tree. 19 ) A
drop involving the height of the tree of life brings the souls not

19) Richard Thurnwald. Forschungen auf den Salomoinseln und dem Bis¬
marck-Ar chip el, I. Berlin: D. Reimer, 1912, pp. 316ff.

The gcographization of death in Melanesia

I S5

underground, but they reach the surface level at which their journey
coincides with several stages in the funeral ceremony which the living
conduct. Surface travel is still possible and consequently the Buin dead
can reach a more pleasant abode than can the Usiai dead in their dark
ravines.

Physical Obstacles . — After having found a large number of ruptures
in the surface geography of Melanesian mortals, it would seem that
obstacles which rise above the surface would be equally numerous.
But this is not the case, and upon closer reflection this becomes quite
understandable. While ruptures in the earth surface are seen only by
those who come very close, the obstacles which rise above the earth’s
surface can be seen from afar; they do not surprise the wanderer as
they can be contemplated in advance and bypassed. This is why, per¬
haps,, of all the people I studied, only the Mbowamb, isolated and
surrounded by mountain ranges, have encountered these as obstacles. 20 )
Thus, for Melanesians, as for Westerners, the “valley of shadows”'
mirrors more adequately than the “climbing of mountains” their
immediate encounter with death.

But obstacles there are; not natural obstacles, but their cultural
modifications. Hills can be climbed, but man-made walls are built
specifically to keep out intruders. Thus, walls blocking the journey
of the dead are insurmountable by living men and they are very
difficult for ghosts. Their function is to obstruct. This is why the
Marind-anim gova, leaping across a fiery wall, burn their lower halves.
The high-rising wall which the Kai ghosts face can only be climbed
by those who have been washed and cleansed of blood and dirt. 21 )

Dilemmas and Riddles. — Man beats paths to travel on and, in
doing so, he tries to bypass or overcome ruptures in the surface and
obstacles which are in his way. But the subject of interruptions is not
completely exhausted by looking at the vertical variations in a pre¬
ferred horizontal path. A wellbeaten path may also rupture in the hori¬
zontal dimension. So, for instance, Dobuan dead come to a forked
road: if they choose the wrong way they come to the Hill of Lice.
Rossel ghosts, too, come to the crossroads, but their decision is made

20) G. F. Vicedom and H. Tischner. Die Mbowamb. Vol. II. Hamburg:
Friedrichsen, De Gruyter & Co., 1943, pp. 310, 341 ff.

21) J. Van Baal. Dema. The Hague: Nijhoff, 1966, p. 806. Also Keysser,
pp. 149 ff.

Karl W . Luc kerf

156

for them by the Guardian Woman who hurries them along on the
road which they deserve. 22 )

Forked roads and crossroads are not the only instances of paths
ruptured in a horizontal dimension. At certain points, roads may
simply come to an end. Sometimes the path is interrupted on purpose.
So for instance, the Malekulan afterworld guardian, Temes Savsap,
having traced before her in the sand the pattern of the path which an
arriving ghost must go, wipes out half of the maze. Only the knowl¬
edge of the complete path will insure safe passage. 23 ) Since both the
passing of forked roads and of interrupted mazes depend on a ghost’s
broader geographical awareness concerning that which extends beyond
the immediate road, the significance of geography for mortal man’s
salvation is well illustrated.

Accumulation of Ruptures and Obstacles. — Horizontal or geogra¬
phical space is practically limitless. This is why it is possible for
indefinite numbers of ruptures and obstacles to accumulate into one
particular afterworld geography. The farther away mortals live from
their final destination, or, the farther a people have migrated away
from the place to which their ancestors went, the more possibilities of
dangers and interruptions arise. Furthermore, as different tribes come
into contact with other groups, their afterlife ideologies embrace new
features. Their experience of death is thus not only projected into a
rupture in geographical space but is exploded into a multiplicity of
ruptures and obstacles.

In this manner the Marind-anim have accumulated a creek, a fiery
wall, and several rivers. The last river is now the official dividing line
between the living and the dead. Southwestern Malekulans must cross
a channel, complete a maze, and swim across a lagoon. By far the most
extensive accumulation, almost a compendium, of ruptures and obstacles
is contained in the Fijian journey of the dead.

In all these examples, the journey of the dead involved is a journey
in the known geographical space of the living. Each individual rupture
or obstacle is associated with an identifiable place or region. The fact
that the geography of the dead overlaps with the geography of the

22) R. F. Fortune. Sorcerers of Dobu. London: Routledge & Sons, 1932, pp.
181 ff. Also Armstrong, pp. 115 ff.

23) A. Bernard Deacon. Malekula, A Vanishing People in the New Hebrides.
London: Routlege & Sons, 1934, pp. 552 ff.

The geographization of death in Melanesia

157

living can assure those who face death that what they will encounter
is just another journey along a familiar path. The many ruptures and
obstacles allow mortal man then to endure his death piecemeal, spread
thinly in a broader geography as a series of relatively minor nuisances.

Means for Continuity

As natural geography presents mortal man with features that are
analogous to his rupturous experience of dying, so it also provides
glimpses of hope and survival. Even geographical features which
ordinarily present themselves to man as ruptures in space, such as
ravines and rivers, may occasionally become pathways to the afterworld.
So for example, the Mbowamb of New Guinea, isolated between high
mountain ranges, escape at death on the rivers and through the deep
valleys which cut through the mountains into the outside world. 24 )

The most common natural rupture in the Melanesian geographies of
the dead is the sea. At first sight the sea might seem chaotic and a
rupture par excellence. But the situation of a ghost who must cross a
stretch of sea is not entirely hopeless. Beneath the surface, the Tubetube
ghosts travel along submerged reefs; their neighbors, the Dobuans
travel to their afterworld by skipping from one wave crest to another.
Some living people from Tanga, in trance, have visited the underworld
on a whirlwind. The Trobriand haloma-ghosts sail to Tuma Island,
aided by southeasterly trade winds. In order to cross the large sea,
toward the western world of the dead, ghosts from Tanga may “thumb
a ride” from the sun who goes there daily. Tangan dead are laid in
state under the open sun. When the dead man's eyes are in focus with
the sun, the westward journey of his ghost begins. 25 ) In this manner,
the rupture of the sea is transcended with the aid of the sun which
functions as a psychopomp. Yet, ambivalently, as are most of the
aids of mortal man, the sun which supports man on his journey easily
degenerates into a threat to the living who are not yet ready to come
along. There is a belief, widely held in New Zealand and the New
Hebrides, that a glance at the setting sun may induce death.

Until a rupture or an obstacle is encountered, the dead, like the

24) Vicedom and Tischner, pp. 310, 341 ff.

25) F. L. S. Bell, “Death in Tanga,” Oceania , VII (Sydney, 1937), p. 337.

158

Karl W. Luckert

living, prefer to walk. If the rupture or obstacle is actually confronted,
men think either about removal or about detours. A hearty Malekulan
warrior, skilled in archery, simply shot the guardian deity. In contrast,
when Pentecoast ghosts come to a stream which they cannot pass,
they climb a tree and dive into the sea. 26 ) Apparently, swimming there
is easier. The dead, like the living, risk leaping across small ravines;
if pursued by wild beasts they climb. They fight when monsters
obstruct their path; they swim across bodies of water and, if swimming
becomes too difficult, they build a raft and float or sail. Man's ability
to build a raft, to float and to sail, is presumably not lost when he dies.
This opens up the possibility of having ghostly ferrymen.

Natural geography is always supplemented by men with the achieve¬
ments of their culture. In the realm of the living, man develops skills,
beats paths, hews steps, lays ladders and bridges, and moves about
with the aid of other men, on animals, and on vehicles. These modes
of locomotion which human culture has developed are changed when
man becomes a ghost only to the extent that they must then accomodate
the natures and desires of ghosts. That is to say that the modes of
locomotion and the implied geography are not changed in their essence
when man dies. From the moment of death onward they merely belong
to a ghostly kind of world. At the point where the experience of death
is projected into geographical ruptures, there the human modes of
travel must be magnified accordingly, by knowledge and cultic means,
in order to match the magnitude of geographized death.

Geography Transcended

Geographization is not the last word in the development of Melanesian
hopes for survival in death. The mortal mind which can hope for
survival in spite of dying and decay can also go a step further. And
some privileged Melanesians have dared to hope beyond the spacial
limitations of commoners.

On Malo Island the underworld has received competition from the
sky-world of the high-ranking members of the Supwe society. 27 ) Still,
as generally in Oceania, the belief in a sky-world is rare in Melanesia.

26) Deacon, pp. 555 f. and Codrington, pp. 287 f.

27) Capell, pp. 59 ff.

The geographization of death in Melanesia

*59

What skyward hopes there are signify the privileged destiny of warriors,
hunters, members of cultic associations, and of chiefs. The ghosts of
slain Orokaiva warriors go aloft into a sky region. The dead chiefs of
San Christoval, who are buried in cut-off canoe coffins, are said to
travel to the sun. Only on Santo Island has the sky-world become a
place for everyone. On Efate, a developmental step further, the
glamour of the sky-world has by contrast transformed the traditional
underworld into a hell of continuous quarrels, fighting, and cannibalism.

Not all the ghosts of warriors have risen into a distinct sky region.
Some still dwell in the atmosphere or have risen slightly higher. The
ghosts of some New Ireland warriors, once they have escaped their
bodies, will fly about in the shape of flying foxes. Some will have
gone farther aloft and will fall in the sky, individually, as meteorites.
Meteorites have been interpreted as omens of death by the Mono-Alu
people of Bougainville Straits. One step further, in New Ireland,
where meteorites are the falling souls of warriors, the less flashy
stars are considered to be the souls of those who have died in a less
spectacular manner. Dim stars are older ghosts; bright stars are those
who have died recently. 28 ) Obviously, the analogy between falling
stars and falling warriors has associated non-warrior ghosts with the
permanent stars in the sky. Sky-oriented beliefs in New Ireland,
however, represent minority opinions.

Quite frequently, when a Melanesian mortal associates his destiny
with the sun, no sky-world is implied. Rather, the sun becomes a
vehicle on which the dead travel beyond the western horizon. The
souls of deceased Tangans exit through their eyes and travel with the
sun into the western underworld. The ghosts of some Torres Straits
people go to Beig, the westernmost place to which the sun goes when
it dives into the western sea. The sky-world of the Ipi people, Purari
Delta area, is reserved for successful warriors and hunters. Ipi widows
watch the setting sun; they wave their hands, and so bid farewell to
the parting ghosts of their husbands. 29 )

Thus it appears that many Melanesians, instead of speculating about
invisible celestial realms, are rather fascinated by their concrete

28) Capell, pp. 52 ff., 59 ff.

29) J. H. Holmes. In Primitive New Guinea. New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons.
1924, pp. 181 ff.

i6o

Luckert, The geographization of death in Melanesia

glimpses of meteorites, stars, and by the place at which the sun sets.
Only people of distinguished rank or ceremonial status aspire to
distinction in vertical and upward space. And only in the northwestern
New Hebrides have a significant number of people perceived a definite
sky realm. This much is certain—mortal man's geography can be
exchanged successfully for celestial expanse.

LA METHODE COMPARATIVE :

ENTRE PHILOLOGIE ET PHENOMENOLOGIE

PAR

GEO WIDENGREN

Uppsala

On sait bien que nos temps se caracterisent par une reaction contre
rhistoricisme, qui fut typique d’une periode precedente. Pour ce qui
est de notre discipline, qui s’appelle quand meme Thistoire des religions,
cette tendance a abouti a la predilection pour une sous-discipline syste-
matique, non historique, la phenomenologie de la religion i). On com-
prend tres bien que tous ceux qui ont un interet particulier pour la
recherche historique en matiere de religion aient suivi avec beaucoup
d’inquietude ce developpement, d’autant plus qu’il a ete souvent promu
par des phenomenologues qui avaient debute dans leur carriere comme
historiens et qui ont continue a ecrire en tant qu’historiens des reli¬
gions; ce qui explique le besoin qu’ils ont eprouve de garantir une
connexion entre Phistoire et la phenomenologie. C’est le cas de Raffaele
Pettazzoni, dont nous celebrons le dixieme anniversaire de la mort, en
rappelant ses grands merites en tant que phenomenologue de la religion.

Dans un article bien connu sur la methode comparative Pettazzoni
exprime son opinion, que les monographies et les manuels phenomeno-
logiques negligent en general le fait qui s’appelle „developpement”
(■ genomenon ) 2 ). M. Bleeker, en discutant a son tour Tarticle de Pet¬
tazzoni, a admis que celui-ci a incontestablement touche par ses criti¬
ques le point faible de la phenomenologie 3 ), en ajoutant qu’en effet —
dans la plupart des cas — le fait d’examiner des phenomenes peut etre
compare a l’examen de „photographies arretees” 4 ).

II est vrai qu’on ne saurait oublier que les phenomenes se presentent
aussi comme enregistres dans un film roulant: ils sont dynamiques

1) Pour l’histoire de cette discipline, cf. E. Hirschmann, Phanomenologie der
Religion, Groningen 1940.

2) Cf. R. Pettazoni, „I 1 metodo comparativo”, Numen VI, 1/1959.

3) Cf. C. J. Bleeker, “The phenomenological method”, Numen VI, 2 1959,
96-111.

4) Bleeker, op. cit., p. no.

Numen XVIII

Geo Widengren

162

aussi bien que statiques. Le probleme est done: comment percevoir un
phenomene religieux a Pinterieur de son proces de developpement. Ce
probleme va de pair avec un autre: comment presenter le dossier
complet des faits relevant d’un meme phenomene.

On ne saurait repondre a ces deux questions sans un apergu rapide
de Thistoire de la phenomenologie en tant que sous-discipline de Phis-
toire des religions. Car la phenomenologie s’est developpee a partir de
la discipline appelee religion comparee et de la methode comparative.
Cest done pour cause que Pettazzoni, en discutant les questions metho-
dologiques relatives a la phenomenologie religieuse, intitule son article
„La methode comparative”.

Mais en ceci il se revele le disciple d’une epoque anterieure a la notre.
En principe, on pourrait dire que la methode ideale pour presenter et
analyser un phenomene serait de comparer toutes les variantes de ce
phenomene comme elles se trouvent dans les differentes religions; car,
en evitant toute simplification dans la maniere de presenter ces variantes,
on eviterait aussi d’aboutir a un resultat final reellement faux. Mais il
est evident que ce procede, qui rappelle la methode comparative comme
elle etait pratiquee autrefois (mais encore de nos jours), ne saurait
etre reellement pratique quand il s’agit d’un manuel de phenomeno¬
logie ou d’un traite ayant pour objet un phenomene assez etendu.

Considerons par exemple la monographic de Pettazzoni sur la con¬
fession des peches 5 ). Les trois volumes de cet ouvrage considerent en
ordre successif presque toutes les religions, ou groupes de religions.
Pourtant, la grande synthese phenomenologique manque, substitute par
quelques articles consideres evidemment par Tauteur comme provi-
soires 6 ). Un peu differente, a ce qu’il nous semble, est la methode
pratiquee par Pettazzoni lorsqu’il traite du theme de Tomniscience de
Dieu. Dans son ouvrage fondamental ‘L’onniscienza di Dio’, dont il
existe des traductions ou des redactions en anglais et en allemand 7 ),
Pettazzoni passe sans aucune hesitation de la religion classique aux
religions des peuples sans ecriture, qu’il appelle les „religions primitives”

5) R. Pettazzoni, La confessione dei peccati, I-III, Bologna 1929-36.

6) R. Pettazzoni, ,,La confession des peches; essai d’interpretation generale”,
Journal de Psychologic 46/1953, pp. 257-68; “La confessione dei peccati: metodo
e risultati”, Scientia, 31/1937, vol. 61, pp. 226-32; “La confession des peches dans
l’histoire des religions”, Melanges Cumont, II, pp. 893-901.

7) R. Pettazzoni, L’onniscienza di Dio, Torino 1955; The All-knowing God ,
London 1956; Der allzvissende Gott, Fischer-Biicherei i960.

La methode comparative

163

appellation qui ne saurait echapper a des reserves assez fortes 8 ).
L’ordre dans lequel les materiaux sont presentes est fort interessant,
du pont de vue de la recherche historique 9 ). L’auteur commence par
l’Ancien Testament 10 ), pour en venir ensuite a la religion egyptien-
ne 11 ), a la Mesopotamie, a la Phenicie 12 ), aux religions de lTnde et de
ITran 13 ) et aux autres religions indo-europeennes 14 ). II examine en¬
suite les religions des autres peuples d’Asie 15 ), entre autres la religion
chinoise 16 ), pour passer finalement en revue les peuples sans ecri-
ture 17 ). Or, dhm point de vue strictement historique, cet ordre pose
une reserve. Pour sauvegarder la perspective historique, on aurait du
commencer par les civilisations les plus anciennes, l’Egypte et la Meso¬
potamie, et par les cultures tributaires, celles des Semites de l’ouest,
pheniciens, hebreux, arabes. Surtout, on bouleverse completement
dordre historique en traitant par exemple, la religion hebraique avant
cedes de l’Egypte, de la Mesopotamie et de la Phenicie. La derniere, par
accord universel, a exerce une influence profonde et manifeste sur la
religion israelite. Apres les religions de dAncien Orient, il aurait fallu
traiter la religion chinoise ancienne, qui appartient, de par le niveau
de son developpement historique, a une „Hochkultur” qui suit, dans
dordre chronologique, la Mesopotamie et l’Egypte. On ne saurait, en
effet, ne pas considerer la religion chinoise avant de s’occuper des
autres religions asiatiques: pratiquer dordre inverse signifierait
negliger excessivement cette exigence historique qui ne peut etre
ignoree, meme dans une recherche phenomenologique.

Apres le traitement des religions asiatiques, on pourrait proceder a
^analyse des religions indo-europeennes et, ensuite, des anciennes cul¬
tures americaines, avec leur prolongement dans les religions des peuples
americains sans ecriture. A ce propos, on pourrait remarquer dans le

8) Cf. G. Meinhof, Die Religion der Afrikaner, Oslo 1926. II fut probablement
le premier savant qui fit usage de ce terme (c.a.d. des peuples sans ecriture.) Je
dois cette reference au prof. S. Lagercrantz.

9) Je cite de Tedition mineure allemande, parce que sa methode est plus facile
a suivre dans ce petit volume.

10) Cf. Der allwissende Gott, pp. 24-28.

11) Cf. op. cit., p. 28 s.

12) Cf. op. cit., p. 29.

13) Cf. op. cit., pp. 30-32.

14) Cf. op. cit., pp. 32-38.

15) Cf. op. cit., pp. 38-40.

16) Cf. op. cit., pp. 40-43.

17) Cf. op. cit., pp. 43-69.

164

Geo Widengren

livre de Pettazzoni que romniscence du dieu Tezcatlipoca, qui appar-
tient au pantheon azteque, est traitee apres que hauteur ait examine les
idees des Pueblos 18 ), peuple chez lequel on trouve incontestablement
des traces d’influence azteque, parfaitement explicable, d’ailleurs, a
cause des affinites ethniques et linguistiques 19 ). II est done evident
que hauteur n’a pas ete completement fidele au principe auquel il avait
declare de vouloir s’inspirer. Dans son article sur la methode compara¬
tive Pettazzoni signale energiquement l’importance du concept de
developpement historique 20 ). Mais si le phenomenologue veut tenir
bon a ce concept, il lui faut tenir compte de l’age respectif de cultures
qu’il analyse; surtout, il lui faut preter attention aux problemes gene-
tiques et ne pas negliger l’enchainement historique qui lie certaines cul¬
tures et certains peuples; enchainement qui est d’ailleurs assez facile a
prouver grace a la methode historique. Les memes reflexions methodo-
logiques suggerent une critique pour ce qui est de la fagon dont Pettaz¬
zoni arrange les materiaux de sa vaste enquete sur la confession des
peches. Mais il est superflu de demontrer ici comment une telle en¬
quete devrait etre organisee pour satisfaire aux demandes historiques.

Pour en revenir a l’ouvrage sur l’Omniscience de Dieu, on peut citer
des cas ou hauteur compare, sans aucune hesitation, des phenomenes
appartenant a des religions absolument differentes, sans qu’existe une
connection historique. Considerons, par exemple, une question speciale,
le cas ou l’impie, qui est en meme temps un fou, ne croit pas a l’om-
niscience de Dieu. A ce propos hauteur, en traitant la religion iranienne,
avance une comparaisotn entre Mithra et Yahweh, une comparaison pure-
ment phenomenologique, qui devrait avoir sa place propre dans les
conclusions phenomenologiques 21 ). Un deuxieme exemple. En pro-
posant quelques remarques, fort interessantes d’ailleurs, sur la struc-

18) Cf. op. cit., pp. 60-62.

19) Les Pueblos vivent dans la partie septentrionale du Mexique et dans des
territoires au nord de ce pays. Provenant du nord les Azteques ont envahi la
region meridionale du Mexique. Bien que les Pueblos ne parlent pas une langue
azteque, on ne saurait douter des liens culturels entre eux et les Azteques. Les
Pueblos ont done herite probablement de la culture dont les Azteques etaient
autrefois les representants les plus typiques.

20) Cf. Numen VI, 1/1950, pp. 12-14.

21) Cf. Der allwissende Gott, p. 31 s. Il faut aussi remarquer que apisman
n’est pas Mithra „sot”, mais Mithra „aveugle”, qui ne voit pas, cf. Widengren,
Hochgottglaube im alten Iran , Uppsala 1938, p. 109, avec reference a AirWb,
col. 85.

La methode comparative

165

ture ideologique de la conception d’une omniscience divine, hauteur
n’hesite pas a comparer le Tore des Pygmees avec le Yahweh des He-
brenx, pour en deduire une convergence phenomenologique 22 ). II est
vrai qu’il s’agit ici de conclusions exclusivement phenomenologique?,
qui ne portent pas atteinte aux principes de hauteur.

Voici quelques remarques sur la fagon dont Pettazzoni exerce l’ana-
lyse phenomenologique dans son volume sur l’omniscience de Dieu,
sans nullement devier de la methode traditionnelle. Je ne trcuve aucune
difference entre sa methode, et celle que j’ai pratiquee dans mon manuel
phenomenologique qui vient de paraitre en allemand sous le titre de
,,Rehgionsphanomenologie’’ — a propos de la presentation des mate-
riaux concernant le „Grand Dieu” 23 ). Mais Pettazzoni n’a pas voulu
se limiter a la phenomenologie; il a voulu aussi s’attaquer a l’explication
historique d’un phenomene donne, l’attribut divin de l’omniscience. Le
succes d’une pareille entreprise depend de la condition que l’enquete
phenomenologique ait ete executee avec un examen scrupuleux des faits.
Or, la base des conclusions de Pettazzoni n’est pas toujours parfaite-
ment solide, comme par ex. quand il affirme que, souvent, le Grand
Dieu n’est pas un createur, et qu’il existe un dualisme typologique entre
le dieu caracterise par une activite creatrice et le dieu caracterise par
homniscience 24 ). Cela peut se verifier, sans aucun doute, mais il ne
s’agit absolument pas d’un phenomene universel. Par exemple. Pettaz¬
zoni affirme expressement que les Grands dieux des peuples indo-
europeens ne sont pas createurs, mais bien des dieux omniscients et
tout-voyants 25 ). Or il n’en est pas toujours ainsi. Ahura Mazda, par
exemple, est createur, comme on lit dans l’inscription de Naqs-i
Rustam 26 ). Quant aux religions semitiques, soit Yahweh soit Marduk
sont des dieux omniscients et, en meme temps, des createurs 27 ). Le
dualisme pretendu n’est done pas aussi strict que l’auteur ne le pense.

22) Cf. op. cit., p. 74, ou l’on trouvera d’autres comparaisons avec des dieux de
peuples sans ecriture.

23) Cf. Widengren, Religionsphanomenologie, Berlin 1969, partic. pp. 46-92.

24) Cf. Der allwissende Gott, p. 75.

25) Cf. op. cit., p. 75.

26) Cf. Widengren, Die Religionen Irans, Stuttgart 1965, p. 117.

27) Le livre de Job, chap. 36 s., glorifie la sagesse et le pouvoir de Yahweh, tandis
que le chap. 38 est une glorification de son activite creatrice. Yahweh est t e mlm
deHm, „parfait dans sa connaissance”, 37, 16, et en meme temps il est toujours
qoneh samaylm wd c arce$, Gen. 14, 19, 22, „le createur du ciel et de la terre”, un
terme qui existait deja dans un arriere-fond cananeen, cf. H. Geese, Die Religionen

Geo Widengren

166

Le point de depart est done deja un peu suspect. Suivons cependant
l’auteur dans son effort historique pour passer des formes” aux for¬
mations” 28 ).

Pettazzoni part ici de l’hypothese que le stade de culture le plus ancien
chez les tribus hebraiques ait ete le nomadisme 29 ). Or on admet en
general que ces tribus, avant leur migration en Palestine, n’aient pas
ete des nomades mais des semi-nomades. J’ai eu 1’occasion ailleurs
d’ecrire que l’analyse des souches linguistiques semitiques les plus an-
dennes rend cette hypothese assez douteuse, et aujourd’hui je ne suis
plus le seul savant a defendre cette opinion 30 ). Mais acceptons provi-
soirement l’hypothese que les anciens Hebreux aient ete exclusivement
des semi-nomades. L’auteur en vient ensuite a une comparaison entre
Yahweh et le dieu mexicain Tezcatlipoca. Ces dieux seraient suscep-
tibles d’une comparaison, du fait qu’ils appartiendraient tous les
deux a des traditions culturelles comparables: d’un cote la culture
des nomades, de pasteurs semitiques, et d’autre cote la culture
des peuples barbares venus du nord (nahuatl). L’image d’un dieu
celeste et omniscient s’adapterait facilement au modele d’une culture
de nomades et de pasteurs; dans la vie des pasteurs nomades se trouve-
raient les presuppositions de la foi en un dieu celeste, en un etre su¬
preme. Ainsi, l’uniformite phenomenologique entre Yahweh et Tezcat¬
lipoca s’expliquerait, d’apres l’auteur, par les memes conditions cultu¬
relles 31 ). Pour ma part, je n’ai rien a objecter contre la comparaison
de la foi en un Grand dieu de la part d’un peuple de pasteurs nomades
et d’un meme type de religion pres d’un autre peuple de nomades. II y
a plus de trente ans que j’ai fait, justement, cette comparaison entre
la religion des tribus de l’lran ancien et des tribus africaines modernes
de pasteurs nomades 32 ). Mais il faut tenir compte de deux circonstan-
ces. Premierement, la comparaison etait exclusivement d’ordre pheno-

Altsyriens, in: Die Religionen Altsyriens, Altarabiens und der Mandder, Stuttgart
x 970, pp. 113-115. C’est le cas aussi pour Marduk, cf. Tallqvist, Akkadische
Gotterepitheta, Helsinki 1938, p. 371 (mudu kaldma, p. 86), qui est en meme
temps omniscient et createur, p. 366 (banu ou band kibrdtim p. 69, et ban same u
erseti, P- 69).

28) Cf. Der allwissende Gott, pp. 77 ss.

29) Cf. op. cit., p. 81.

30) Cf. Widengren, JSS, 5/1960, pp. 397-410, et maintenant Henninger, Uber
Lebensraum und Lebensformen der Fruhsemiten , Koln und Opladen, 1948.

31) Cf. Der allwissende Gott, p. 82 s.

32) Cf. Widengren, Hochgottglaube, p. 30.

La methode comparative

167

menologique; je n’ai tire aucune conclusion historique. Deuxiemement,
il faut qu’une comparaison semblable se rapporte a deux peuples qui
soient incontestablement des pasteurs nomades, c’est-a-dire se trouvent
au meme stade de developpement culturel.

Or, dans le cas en question, il n’en est rien. Le dieu Tezcatlipoca
nappartient nullement a un peuple de pasteurs nomades, vu que le noma-
disme n’existait pas chez ces peuples avant Tarrivee des Europeens 33 ).
En effet hauteur lui-meme s’exprime d’une faqon un peu flottante; il
ne parle pas de „peuple nomade”, mais bien de peuple „barbare” (que
signifie d’ailleurs cette expression tres curieuse, du point de vue de
l’ethnologie ?): un peuple barbare venu du nord 34 ), — ce qui est toute
autre chose et n’indique pas du tout un stade de nomadisme.

Pour en conclure: rien n’indique que Yahweh et Tezcatlipoca aient
ete adores par deux peuples appartenant au meme type de culture. Au
contraire, on pourrait bien supposer qu’ils etaient adores parmi des
peuples appartenant a des civilisations tres differentes.

Pettazzoni a voulu etendre son enquete sur tout le complexe des cul¬
tures, en essayant de trouver dans les cultures des pasteurs nomades
l’origine historique de la conception du Grand Dieu. Mais c’est bien la
franchir les limites d’une enquete phenomenologique. Dans son article
sur la methode comparative, en effet, Pettazzoni a observe opportune-
ment que la phenomenologie presente seulement Timage fixe d’un phe-
nomene. Il s’agit done, d’apres lui, d’une methode qui a un aspect sta-
tique — ce qui est parfaitement vrai; mais si Y on passe d’une enquete
phenomenologique a une hypothese historique sans fournir pour autant
une analyse historique satisfaisante, on ne donne pas une contribution
a la methodologie phenomenologique. Il s’agit ici en effet d’une meta¬
basis eis alio genos. Pour cette raison on aimerait mieux voir que
1’aspect dynamique d’un certain phenomene est pris en compte par la
presentation des differents stades du developpement de ce dernier,
sans pour autant vouloir donner une explication historique du pheno¬
mene en question. Je m’empresse de dire que, dans mon ouvrage sur
la phenomenologie, je suis tombe moi-meme dans la meme erreur. Je
n’ai pas suffisamment trace les lignes de demarcation entre la methode
historique et la methode comparative, en traitant de sujets tels que les

33) Cf. Krickeberg-Trimborn-Muller-Zerries, Die Religionen des alten
Amerika , Stuttgart 1961, p. 176, „der ab 1680 entstandene Reiternomadismus der
Prarie”.

34) Der allwissende Gott, p. 82.

Geo Widengren

168

societes et les organisations religieuses, le sacerdoce, le prophetisme 35 )
etc., on bien une idee religieuse, comme, par exemple, la notion d’un
Grand Dieu 36 ). C’est le meme motif que chez Pettazzoni qui m’a
pousse en cette direction; mais aujourd’hui je trouve que ce melange
de methode historique et phenomenologique constitue une erreur me-
thodique regrettable. Aujourd’hui je voudrais recommander de pre¬
senter seulement les stades successifs d’un phenomene, comme des
images roulantes, sans en tirer des conclusions historiques. Post hoc
n’est pas du tout propter hoc. En faisant cela, on pourrait satisfaire a
la fois les exigences de Pettazzoni et celles de Bleeker, et eviter la
confusion methodologique dont nous venons de parler. Evidemment,
c’est l’interet pour la recherche historique qui a cause une certaine er-
reur methodique dont nous avons ete coupables.

Dans ses notes sur les ouvrages de Mircea Eliade, qui traitent de
differents aspects de la recherche phenomenologique, Pettazzoni a reagi
vigoureusement contre l’attitude de ce savant, qu’il caracterise comme
anti-historique 37 ). Pettazzoni s’oppose carrement a l’hypothese qu’il
a existe une humanite archetypique anterieure aun homme historique 38 ).
II va de soi que Pettazzoni a parfaitement raison. On ne saurait etablir
une difference entre un homme soi-disant archaique et un homme
historique. Tout homme a toute epoque a ete historique; seulement, la
majorite des hommes ne sont pas du tout conscients d’etre integres dans
l’histoire. C’est un fait incontestable que la majorite prefere la legende
ou les mythes a l’histoire. Eliade a montre comment le mythe triomphe
sur l’histoire 39 ): un fait auquel moi aussi je me suis interesse, mais ce
phenomene est universel; il parait partout, meme de nos jours. Pettaz¬
zoni, en historien convaincu a reagi contre la tendance a voir les phe-
nomenes religieux places dans un milieu archaique, archetypique, com-
pletement isole de toute histoire. En effet, il est bien douteux que l’usage
de termes tels que ‘archetype’ et ‘archetypique’ soit utile, etant donne
que ces termes sont difficilement definissables, et par consequence
obscurs et douteux. Les archetypes, meme si Ton voudrait en admettre

35) Cf. Widengren, Religionsphanomenologie, pp. 559 ss, 618 ss.

36) Cf. op. cit., pp. 46 ss.

37) Cf. „Gli ultimi appunti di Raffaele Pettazzoni”, SMSR XXXI i960,
PP- 31 - 55 , partic. p. 35.

38) Cf. op. cit., p. 37: „Non esiste una umanita archetipica, anteriore airuomo
storico”.

39) Cf. Eliade, Le mythe de Veternel retour , Paris 1949, pp. 63 ss.

La methode comparative

169

Texistence, n’existent pas independamment de Phomme. Us ne sont pas
des entites possedant une realite ontologique, comme Pa observe tres
justement Pettazzoni 40 ); les introduire dans la discussion phenome-
nologique ne sert qu’a creer une confusion regrettable dans Panalyse
des phenomenes. L’excellent travail scientifique d’Eliade reste cepen-
dent independant de la validite de cette terminologie pour ainsi dire
sectoriste. Inversement, dans la terminologie phenomenologique, le
terme ‘archaique* est a mon avis de loin preferable au terme ‘primitif*,
dont la methode comparative a abuse au point qu’elle lui a fait perdre
presque toute signification. On comprend difficilement pourquoi des
historiens des religions se servent encore de nos jours d*un terme aban-
donne par les ethnologues. Utilisons plutot, au lieu de ce terme, des
appellations comme Schriftlose Vbiker, Illiterate Peoples , peuples sans
ecriture. Eliade en effet ne park jamais d*une pensee „primitive”, ce
que fait constamment Pettazzoni. On s’imagine difficilement ce qui se
cache derriere ce terme, tandis qu*un concept comme celui de pensee
„archaique’* est, du moins en principe, chronologiquement bien defini:
il s’agit de Thomme prehistorique ou de Thomme historique appartenant
aux periodes anciennes de Thistoire humaine. Cependant, chose remar-
quable, Eliade, sans le vouloir, reconstruit pour ainsi dire cette forme
archaique en ayant recours aux peuples sans ecriture modernes, me¬
thode que je trouve inadmissible 41 ).

Si Ton prend son point de depart des faits appartenant a un passe
lointain, reconstruit surtout d'apres les religions des peuples dits „non-

40) Cf. Pettazzoni, „Gli ultimi appunti”, p. 38: „Come se, dunque, gli archetipi
avessero una realta ontologica a se indipendentemente daH’uomo che li pensa e
concepisce”.

41) Cf. p. ex. Eliade, Le my the de Internet retour, Paris, 1949. Dans ce livre
tres suggestif, l’auteur se propose de traiter des problemes concernant „rontologie
archaique”, p. 13. II commence par les „archetypes celestes des territoires des
temples et des villes”, p. 21, en passant des anciennes „hautes cultures” de
l’Egypte et de la Mesopotamie aux peuples altaiques, p. 21. Or, il est clair que
les peuples nomades altaiques et les peuples des civilisations urbaines d’Egypte et
Mesopotamie ne sauraient etre classifies comme appartenant au meme niveau
culturel. D’autre part, comment des peuples a civilisation urbaine pourraient-ils
etre qualifies d’archaiques ? Pour ce qui concerne la Mesopotamie, on pourrait
peut-etre qualifier les plus anciennes civilisations prehistoriques comme archaiques,
mais certainement pas les milieux culturels des periodes historiques. Ni ces peuples
medievaux ou modernes habitant l’Asie Centrale ne sauraient evidemment etre
qualifies d’archaiques non plus. Il est done evident que cet homme „archai'que”
n’a pas eu d’existence historique reelle; il s’agit d’un etre reconstruit, et done
pleinement hypothetique.

170

Geo Widengren

civilises” (il va de soi que chaque peuple possede une civilisation), ou
d’apres les peuples appartenant aux anciennes civilisations de TEgypte,
de la Mesopotamie, etc., on presentera, de chaque phenomene, une
image qui correspond a ce qui est valable a Tinterieur de ces religions,
et une image qui est probablement exacte pour ces pediodes anciennes de
hhistoire, pour autant qu’on puisse la reconstruire, mais nullement pour
les stades ulterieurs de la manifestation du phenomene en question.

On peut par exemple comparer la description de Tespace sacre, telle
que nous la lisons dans le Traite d’histoire des religions de Mircea
Eliade 42 ), et la description, pourtant tres incomplete, qui se trouve dans
notre Religionsphanomenologie 43 ). En traitant de Tespace sacre on ne
saurait negliger les grandes religions de Thumanite. En faire autrement
signifierait partager un heritage nefaste de la methode comparative, qui
trop souvent s’est concentree sur les religions des peuples dits ,,non-
civilises’, en ajoutant de fagon sporadique quelques illustrations tirees
de civilisations anciennes, classiques et orientates.

Encore une observation concernant les materiaux analyses. On a trop
souvent consacre son attention aux phenomenes pour ainsi dire exte-
rieurs, en oubliant que la maniere d’agir constitue le symbole d’une
maniere de penser. II ne faut pas oublier Tattitude spirituelle qui se
cache derriere Taction rituelle. Pour cette raison, le meme acte exprime
souvent de differentes attitudes. Prenons par exemple, dans les diffe-
rentes confessions chretiennes, la communion comme action rituelle.
L’interpretation donnee a la communion est un fait assez variable et
pour cette raison Tattitude et Tatmosphere parmi les croyants sont
variables elles aussi. II faut a tout prix eviter une interpretation pheno-
menologique qui se concentre exclusivement sur Taction exterieure en
oubliant les sentiments qui dominent les fideles. Mais il a meme pu
arriver que, au contraire, la methode comparative ait abouti a des inter¬
pretations magiques de la communion qui sont en general complete-
ment inadmissibles 44 ).

Un autre exemple concerne le developpement du concept de temple
a celui de basilique. Quels sont les facteurs qui ont conditionne le
changement de temple a synogogue ou mosquee? 45 ) On a prete trop

42) Cf. Eliade, Traite d'histoire des religions , Paris 1949, pp. 315-331.

43) Cf. Widengren, Religionsphanomenologie, pp. 328-359.

44) Cf. op. cit., pp. 353 - 359 -

45) Cf. op. cit., pp. 353 - 359 -

La methode comparative

171

peu d’attention a de tels phenomenes, du fait que la phenomenologie a
herite des traditions de la methode comparative, qui ne s’est pas inte-
ressee a ces problemes.

L’analyse de l’idee d’un Grand dieu pourra etre faite sans tenir
compte du developpement historique a condition que les faits soient pre¬
sents d’une fagon correcte du point de vue historique. Je voudrais bien
illustrer cette condition par un renvoi a mon ouvrage phenomenologique
Hochgottglaube im alten Iran. J’avais essaye de presenter dans cet
ouvrage une typologie du Grand dieu qui le montre en tant qu’eleve
au-dessus du bien et du mal et en meme temps bisexue; c’est a dire
eleve-au-dessus des tendances opposees. En effet, le bien et le mal
sont souvent congus comme ses deux fils. J’avais retrouve ce type
phenomenologique dans l’lran ancien tout comme en Afrique Noire. 46 ).
Or, apres la publication de mon livre, en 1938, on a decouvert la meme
typologie dans l’ancienne civilization mexicaine des Azteques, ou le
Grand dieu etait un dieu bisexue, en meme temps qu’au-dessus du bien
et du mal, les tendances opposees etant representees respectivement par
les dieux Quetzalcoatl et Tezcatlipoca. Ces deux dieux sont congus
comme etant les envoyes du Grand dieu, ou meme ses deux fils. 47 ).
Ceci realise le type: voila le fait important, du point de vue phenomeno¬
logique, tandis que peu importe, de ce meme point de vue, qu’un deve¬
loppement historique puisse etre decouvert a l’interieur de ce type
(Tezcatlipoca, comme on l’a observe plus haut, est un dieu immigre du
nord). Pour la phenomenologie, il reste le fait essentiel que le meme
phenomene se montre dans l’lran ancien, dans TAfrique Noire moderne
et dans le Mexique medieval. Cette coincidence montre evidemment une
certaine universality de cette conception de Dieu: voila ce qui est im¬
portant pour la phenomenologie.

Quelques reflexions d’ordre general suivront ici, qui concernent la
nature de la methode phenomenologique. Si banales qu’elles soient en
partie, elles peuvent au moins provoquer pres de mes auditeurs des
reflexions ulterieures. M. Bleeker a formule un principe auquel je
donne ma pleine adhesion: la phenomenologie prend sur soi d’arranger
les faits dans un ordre systematique, pour essayer ensuite d’en saisir
la portee et le sens; somme toute, elle cherche a les comprendre en tant
que faits religieux, sans les violer en aucune maniere en tant que faits

46) Cf. Widengren, Hochgottglaube im alten Iran, passim.

47) Cf. W. Krickeberg et al., op cit., p. 41 s., avec reference aux ouvrages de
Dietschy et Haekel.

172

Widengren, La methode comparative

historiques 48 ). Je trouve cette formule excellente. Par ailleurs, j’hesite
un peu a accepter l’af formation de Husserl, citee par M. Bleeker, que
la phenomenologie ne considere pas ,,le bleu individuel” mais bien ,,la
nature du bleu”. Ceci, c’est la structure, le mechanisme, que la pheno¬
menologie aura a analyser ou a presenter. 49 ). Mais il arrive souvent
qu’il faut prendre un fait individuel comme representant individuel d’un
type general, d’une structure, d’un mechanisme. En effet, il est pra-
tiquement impossible qu’on analyse tous les faits individuels pour en
deduire la structure generate. C’est la raison pratique qui conduit le
phenomenologue a ce que le Prof. Goldammer appelle des images im-
pressionistes, ou un phenomene individuel represente la structure gene-
rale 50 ). Mais il y a une autre raison, la raison methodologique.
N’oublions pas que le phenomene est la chose qui se montre (to phaino-
menon). La structure se revele done seulement dans le phenomene tel
quel. Mieux vaut illustrer un mechanisme, une structure, par un pheno¬
mene individuel que de presenter des formules generates sans aucune
illustration individuelle 51 ). Ici la philologie a un role a jouer. La philo-
logie decouvre souvent les facteurs de conservation dans la langue reli-
gieuse et d’une telle fagon elle nous represente la tendance a la continuite
dans le monde des religions. Le meme phenomene se presente a nos yeux
dans des religions distinctes. La continuite est evidente, par exemple
entre la religion mesopotamienne et la chretiente syrienne, entre
la religion juive et le christianisme, entre l’lslam et les deux reli¬
gions bibliques, entre l’hindouisme et le bouddhisme, etc. Ici la philo¬
logie rend a la phenomenologie de grands services, en rendant plus
penetrante notre vue.

La methode phenomenologique, en se basant sur la philologie et la
methode comparative, comp rend done les stades suivants: i° la descrip¬
tion des faits; 2° l’arrangement des faits dans un ordre systematique;
3 0 Interpretation des faits pour en comprendre la signification;
4 0 l’essai d’etablir un type, une structure, un mechanisme, sans violer
en aucune maniere les faits historiques, mais aussi sans confondre
phenomenologie et histoire.

48) Cf. Bleeker, Grondlijnen eener Phaenomenologie van den Godsdienst, Den
Haag, 1943, p. 21.

49) Cf. op. cit. f p. 130.

50) Cf. Goldammer, Die Formenwelt des Religiosen. Stuttgart i960, p. xxix.

51) Ou avec des caracterisations incorrectes comme le fait trop souvent Gold¬
ammer, op. cit.

INDOLOGY AS A CROSS-CULTURAL CATALYST

A New Task of Indological Studies: Cross-cultural Fertilisation

R. PANIKKAR

University of California, Santa Barbara

Indology as a discipline is now about two centuries old. During this
time it has made considerable progress, but is has not changed its basic
structure. It can look back on pioneering work of the eighteenth century,
on astonishing achievements of the nineteenth, and on valuable and in
one sense definitive insights of the first seven decades of the present
century. This scholarship of the past has laid the foundations of all
future work. Without minimising its importance I should, however,
like to suggest that the time is now ripe for a new step, a re-orientation
of indie studies as a whole, and a re-shaping of its fundamental patterns.
In the past, these studies have been a highly specialised science relating
to a strictly delimited geographical and historical area. Now, however,
the social, political and cultural changes of our times make it imperative
not only to broaden the scope of indie studies, but to be ready for a
radical mutation in the self-understanding of indology itself.

It is with this conviction that the present writer has undertaken the
project of preparing a Handbook of Fundamental Terms of Indian
Tradition with the collaboration of experts from all over the world.
This handbook, in lexicon form, will, it is hoped be a significant con¬
tribution, offering some of the materials needed in this task of reorien¬
tation—a task I should like to sum up in the following points.

i. Time and History : Indologists cannot ignore the fact that the
civilisation of ancient India—unlike some other ancient civilizations
(e.g. that of Egypt perhaps)—is still a living reality today. For this
reason, study of any feature of Indian life or thought must necessarily
pursue its evolution up to the present day, if arbitrary, lop-sided results
are to be avoided. One can, if one so desires, limit oneself to vedic
studies, for example, but is there any justification for considering
Sayana’s interpretation of the Vedas while totally ignoring that, say,

174

R. Panikkar

of Dayananda and Aurobindo? Would any modern study of the Bible
be satisfied with Jerome’s interpretations and with the medieval com¬
mentators ?

I am not speaking from a merely cultural point of view and saying,
for instance, that there was a time when—for certain historical
reasons—indology was considered a kind of “curiosity” for musing
specialists only. I am stating from a strictly scientific point of view
that no adequate study of any idea, cultural pattern or human document
is possible without taking into consideration all its possibilities.
Similarly, no botanist can say he knows a seed untill he knows the
plant that grows from it. The real potentialities of a being appertain
also to that same being.

My contention is not only that any study on the nature of the con¬
cept of dharma, for instance, is going to be incomplete if it does not
consider the present day conception of the word, but also that the
ancient conception is likely to be only partially understood if its further
development up to modern times is not taken into account. Moreover,
no writer studying any problem can isolate himself from the influence
of the notions of his time: the very words he has at his disposal are
already charged with the meanings and by-meanings of his own con¬
temporary culture. This fact, that the time-factor is not merely
accidental to any human manifestation, is even more relevant today,
because we have become acutely aware of the fact itself.

2. Space and Geography : Classical indology is well aware that
indian culture is not limited to the indian sub-continent and that it
offers clues for the understanding of many cultures of Asia. The im¬
pact of buddhism on eastern and central Asia is too well known to
need further mention here. The Ramayana and Mahabharata have been
part of the shaping forces in many countries south of Burma, and how
Siva has been worshipped in Indonesia may throw light on the nature
of saivism within India.

But indology must devote more attention than it has in the past to
other areas in which cross-cultural contacts have taken—and are
taking—place. In a more or less spurious form, many an indian value
is asserting itself on the shores of California and in the universities of
Europe. In return, western values have, for better or worse, deeply
penetrated not only the great cities but also the remotest villages of
India. In the face of these developments, can indology remain impri-

Indology as a cross-cultural catalyst

i7 5

soned in an ivory tower whose drawbridge was raised when the mus-
lims arrived in India?

I am not referring only to the well known, but insufficiently studied
phenomenon, of feed-back influence, i.e. to the fact that the interpreta¬
tion of any information by the passive receivers has a repercussion on
the original source of the idea. I have also in mind the fact that geo¬
graphical boundaries are rapidly losing their importance as barriers
to the spread of cultural values: not only are gadgets diffused all over
the globe within a few years of their invention: popularised ideas from
all the continents are now travelling literally at the speed of light to the
furthest corners not only of the world but also of the human psyche.
Indology can no longer self-complacently ignore this revolution in the
mass-media.

3. New hermeneutics : Indology has always been aware that it was
engaged in an interpretation of indian values. The newness I detect in
present-day indological endeavours is the result of the combination, in
a critical spirit, of the two principles governing any sound hermeneutical
methodology. Let us consider first the two principles and then their
critical coordination.

a) The homological principle: It was an ancient con¬
viction, east and west, that only like could know like. In other words,
only from an homogeneous context could a concept be properly under¬
stood and evaluated. Nothing is more harmful than overhurried syn¬
theses and superficial parallelisms. Every cultural value has a definite
sphere where it is valid and meaningful: any unwarranted extrapolation
may only lead to confusion and misunderstanding. It is in this sense
that the contribution of pandits and exegetes is invaluable. It has
provided the internal understanding of the traditional point of view.
Together with the scholarship of indologists it furnishes a fair picture
of the philological, archaeological, historical and other phenomena of
indian culture. It must be recognised that without this previous work
we could not now undertake the new step we are advocating.

The homological principle, which is one of internal interpretation,
springs from a criterion, which I consider to be the golden rule of
hermeneutics, namely that any interpretation given from outside a
tradition has to meet all the requirements of and at least phenomeno¬
logically coincide with the self-interpretation given from within. To

176

R. Panikkar

catalogue a murtipiijaka , for instance, as worshipper of an idol in the
sense in which an idol is commonly conceived in the jewish-christian-
muslim context, and not to start with what the idol means for the
worshipper himself is to transgress this golden rule that the interpreted
“being” should at least recognise itself in the given interpretation. A
whole philosophy on the nature of murti is here at stake. It is perhaps
one of the positive cultural achievements of our times to have arrived
at the conviction that there are no absolute categories which can serve
as absolute criteria for judging everything under the sun.

b) The dialogical principle: Utterly rigorous and
exclusive application of this homological principle would, however,
paralyse the critical faculties and prevent all progress. I may under¬
stand the world-view behind the practice of human sacrifice, yet I may
find it unbalanced, immature and ultimately wrong. I may have devel¬
oped forms of awareness and understanding that lead me to see the
inadequacy, at least of certain conceptions, which I feel myself jus¬
tified in crticising from my own perspective. I may be able even to
detect incongruities in a given conception or the no-longer tenable
assumptions on which it rests, and thus try to overcome that particular
notion. The dialogical principle is here at work.

I find the name of ‘dialogical principle’ appropriate in as far as it
is only through an internal or external dialogue that one becomes aware
of uncritical or unwarranted assumptions which can no longer be
held. Our present time is beginning to open up to a new conception of
dialogue understood not as a mere source of information, but as a
means leading to a much deeper understanding of the other, and also
of self-understanding. We all are learning not to shun light and
criticism which comes from other shores.

c) The co-ordinating method: We come now to the
unique situation of our times, which permits a global communication
and allows a constant two-may flow of ideas, thus making possible on
a large scale a cross-fertilization of cultures and a harmonious applica¬
tion of the two principles outlined above. By themselves, each is barren
and unsatisfying. Past or quickly passing are the days in which may a
could be simply translated as ‘magic’ or, for that matter, western civilisa¬
tion could be equated with materialism. The so-called ‘polytheistic’ world,
for instance, has not yet been fully admitted to the academic and ‘civilised’

Indology as a cross-cultural catalyst

1 77

world, but once 'integrated', it will certainly wonder at our erudite
anthropological discourses. No statement is valid and meaningful if it
cannot be heard, understood and in a way verified by all the people
concerned.

This is not the place and time to elaborate the guiding lines for the
well-balanced use of both principles. We can, however, affirm that it
cannot be achieved in isolation. It needs a truly interdisciplinary effort,
not only of the traditional disciplines of 'academia’, but also of the
people whose cultures we are discussing: they are jull participants who
have to be present with equal rights at the symposium.

Indologists from all continents are today sufficiently convinced that
they must apply faithfully to their own studies the methodological prin¬
ciples of modern critical scholarship: at the same time they are also
aware that neither science nor western categories have a kind of ab¬
solute value or even unlimited applicability in their own particular field
of research. From these two insights, in combination, we may expect
a new science of indology to emerge in the near future.

4. Scientific homology: It would be most unrewarding to
indulge in mere "comparativisms” between indological concepts and
their possible counterparts in other cultures. The notion of homology
here suggested applies the geometrical notion of homology to certain
series of concepts belonging to different cultures. In geometry homo¬
logy stands for correlations between points of two different systems,
in which one point of one system corresponds to a ‘homologous’ point
in the other. This method does not imply, first, that one system is
better than the other, nor, second, that a point can be interchanged,
transplantated as it were, from one system to another. It discovers only
homologous correlations.

A couple of examples may clarify perhaps what is meant here. It is
obviously false to translate the upanisadic concept of brahman , for
instance, by the biblical concept of Yaweh; yet it would be equally un¬
satisfactory to say that these concepts have nothing whatsoever in
common. The perspective and the contents of both are utterly different:
they are not mutually translatable, for they are not in direct relation¬
ship, but they are homologable; they play an analogous role within the
two different cultural settings. They both refer to a highest value and
absolute term — whereby the terms 'high’ and 'absolute’ are already
used in an homologous way.

Numen XVIII

178

R. Panikkar

The concept of homology cannot be identified with the traditional
concept of analogy, though it is related to it. It is not that the homo¬
logous terms show certain analogies as if the two notions were partially
the same and partially different or as if both share in a ‘tertium quid’:
the basis of the analogy. It is rather that they perform an equivalent
function, that they occupy an ‘homologous’ place and fulfil an ‘homo¬
logous’ role within their respective systems. Homology is perhaps a
kind of existential-functional analogy. In our example one cannot say,
for instance, that brahman is provident or even transcendent, or that
Yahweh is all-pervading, without attributes. Brahman does not need
to be ‘personalised’ nor Yahweh regarded in an ontological way in order
to be correlated. And yet both have an homologous function: The role
and place of each within their respective cultures is homologous.

This applies not only to the past or to merely traditional notions.
There is much to be said, for instance, for homologizing the indian
traditional notion of karman with the modern notion of historicity as
that temporal ingredient of the human being which transcends its in¬
dividuality.

5. Existential fertilisation : This process of homologizing not merely
by discovering resemblances or parallelisms, but by detecting the
homologous place of a notion in the whole structure of a given culture
is not merely academic function, nor a purely theoretical activity of the
mind. The task of discovering homologies has direct practical conse¬
quences: while it gives no licence for uncritical translations, its main
function is to prepare the ground for a mutual fecundation of the
homologous notions. Few steeped in the indological world, to continue
with the brahman-Yaweh example given above, will be satisfied with
a merely personalistic notion of the divine, just as few of those who
are at home in western culture will easily dispense with the per¬
sonalistic character of the ultimate dimension of reality, by whatever
name it may be called. Indology is today at the cross-roads: if it under¬
stands rightly its own situation it may become an effective factor in
the shaping of the coming human civilization, which in spite or perhaps
because of its pluralistic character will also need very many cross-
cultural relationships.

Two further examples may be useful. The concept of non-violence,
so important in the modern world, cannot be said to be a mere trans-

Indology as a cross-cultural catalyst

179

lation of ahimsa , which conveys an indian, particularly (but not exclu¬
sively) jain notion; neither can it be said that the concept of non¬
violence has no indian roots. It is a symbiotic notion, very weak still
not only from the practical but also from the theoretical point of view,
as is shown when it is faced with present day accumulated tensions; it
is nevertheless a new living concept of our times. On the other hand,
the concept of social justice, or of egalitarian parliamentary democracy,
in so far as it is a foreign ideal based on an essentially aristotelian world
view, is not likely to strike deep roots in India, unless it can be assimi¬
lated to homologous elements already present in indian culture.

It is here that the perhaps cryptic title of this communication may
be understandable: indology, as a science between two worlds, per¬
forms a catalytic function of accelerating a process of mutual fertilisa¬
tion between cultures and traditions, through which a healthy pluralism
may be preserved without falling into anarchy.

It is not imprecisely that I have used the chemical metaphor of cata¬
lysis. Indologists may go on with their specific work; catalytic sub¬
stances either do not enter into the chemical reaction or are recovered
intact at the end of the process. There is no question of denying the
special field of indology. Nevertheless, in a world of increasing
specialization, indologists, like experts in every other discipline, must
give some thought to their overall function in the world. This is an
arduous task and challenge which indian studies will face in years to
come. Recognition of the significant role which indian studies may play
in our times can lead to a renewal of these studies not as a more or less
esoteric discipline, but as an integral part of a more civilised and har¬
monic conception of life.

SIVA AND DIONYSOS—VISIONS OF
TERROR AND BLISS

J. BRUCE LONG
Haverford, Pa., U.S.A.

It will be our purpose in this essay to describe and interpret certain
'divine modalities’ or 'modes of manifestation’ which two deities
possess in common—Rudra-Siva in India and Dionysos in ancient
Greece. It is our belief that the character of these gods whose worship
sprang out of and was nurtured by cultures which are widely divergent
in time and place, form homologous or parallel structures of religious
experience and expression. It will be our contention that these two
divine modanities manifest certain religious significances which are
at once historical and transhistorical, traits which are both Greek and
Indian, on the one hand, and fundamentally human, on the other. We
feel that by providing such a phenomenological and structural analysis
of their personalities, deeds and cults as manifested in their respective
mythologies, we shall augment, not diminish the religious significance
of each.

The precise reasons and causes for this parallelism are profound and
complex. Like any other formative and long-lived religious tradition,
the roots of these two cults, the socio-religious causes of their appear¬
ance, and the laws governing their development elude the grasp of the
scholar. We might suggest, however, that such a parallelism arises, in
part, from the fact that the cults of both gods developed in similar
fashions at the earliest stages, that they sprang up among peoples having
attained approximately the same type of cultural and social level, and
that, reflecting as they do certain religious truths which their devotees
cherished, they represent similar or homologous apprehensions of Divine
and human reality.

We freely admit that the use of the method of structural compara-
tivism or comparative phenomenology in interpreting religious data
(where no signs of cross-cultural influence are forthcoming) will
inevitably lead to a certain distortion of the material. We maintain,

Siva and Dionysos

181

nevertheless, that such an approach, if used advisedly and with due
caution, will elucidate certain religious meanings in the material which
otherwise would not come to light.

I. General Remarks Concerning Siva and Dionysos

The Vedic god Rudra of whom ‘Siva’ (Auspicious One) was used in
the beginning either as an euphemistic epithet or a laudatory invocation
of his more benevolent side, appears in the Rig Veda as a slightly
exaggerated form of Varuna. Varuna, the god of law and order in
both the cosmic and human realms, inspired in his devotees both dread
and delivery from the dreadful, both fear and redemption from the
fearful. Rudra, by contrast, inspires, for the most part, only fear and
in a most curious manner, a paradoxical fascination for the terrible.
He is, in the famous nomenclature of Rudolf Otto, the numinous par
excellence, the mysterium tremendum who provokes feelings of tremen-
dum as well as fascinosum. As god of the tempest, he is father and leader
of the Maruts or Rudras, gods of the storm-winds who are as destructive
as they are creative. Rudra, a name interpreted by the great Vedic com¬
mentators,, Yaska 1 ) and Sayana as meaning “the Howler”, is closely
associated with the Vedic raingod Indra and with the highly venerated
god of fire, Agni. 2 ) In connection with all manner of meteorological
phenomena, Rudra is the awful and terrifying god of the tempest who
crackles and howls in the wake of the monsoon rains. He is the Divine
Archer 3 ) ( Sarva , RV 1.114.10; 2.33.14) who sends his shafts ( sarva )

1) Nirukta 10.8: “Rudra is (so-called) because he bellows ( rauti ) or because
he runs about ( dravati ) vociferating (intens. of Vru) or is derived from the
causal of rnd, to roar.” See Sayana’s list of six native etymologies for Rudra on
RV I.114.1 in John Muir’s Original Sanskrit Text on the Origin and History of
the People of India, their religions and institutions (5 vols.; London: Trubner
& Co., 1868-74) IV, 301.

2) For a complete presentation of the theories concerning the etymology of
the name “Rudra”, see Jan Gonda, Vedisme et Hindousme Ancien, Vol. I of
Les Religions de LTnde. Paris: Payot, 1962, pp. io6ff.

3) Sarva is a new name assigned to Rudra in V.S. XVI 18.28. The AV refers
to Sarva with destructive lightning four times. This Rudra-Sarva of Vedic
religion is markedly reminiscent of a deity who appears in the Zend-Avesta as
“Saurva” who occupied the Indo-European “third function” in providing moisture
and fecundity in both plants and animals according to the tripartite system of
George Dumezil. On the basis of the fact that both Rudra-Sarva and his Indo-
Iranian predecessor both carry the same weapon {sarva =arrow), provide moisture
for all growing things and cause feelings of awe and even insecurity in all men

/. Bruce Long

18 2

streaking through the atmosphere, bringing sickness, 'fever, cough and
poison* (AV 2.2.22) and disaster upon whomever it strikes. He is
invoked as 'the great Asura of Heaven* (RV 2.1.6) 4 ) because of the
fact that he instills even in the other gods the fear of ruin and death.
So wrathful and unpredictable is he that even the propitiations of his
devotees may provoke his anger if not performed with meticulous
accuracy. 5 )

While in the Rig Veda, Rudra is a ferocious anti-god 'spitting like a
wild beast* (RV 2.33.2) in the later Vedas and Brahmanas, his ferocious
nature is even more accentuated. For example, in the Vajasaneyi-
sarhhita of the Sukla-Yajurveda (Sect. XVI) there is a famous litany
traditionally known as the Satarudriya, addressed to Rudra in his
hundred forms surrounded by his ghoulish retinue. 6 ) He appears in
this text as a killer whose form is 'black, swarthy, murderous and fear¬
ful*; a robber, cheat and deceiver; the lord of thieves and robbers*. He
is also a deliverer and saviour. His arrows are said to bring with them
both diseases of all sorts and antidotes for those diseases. He has a
healing ( besaja ) and an auspicious (siva) body, which makes its power¬
ful presence felt in all departments of the natural world. As is evident
Rudra is described here as incorporating a startling collection of para¬
doxical and incongruous, grotesque and terrifying attributes. 7 )

In the Svetasvatara Upanisad (a text in which Rudra-Siva is un¬
ambiguously identified with the Brahman of Vedanta) the name 'Siva*
ceases to be used euphemistically and comes to designate Rudra*s total
essence as High God. 8 ) His most important modes of appearance in
the Mahabharata are: Pdsupati (Lord of Cattle), Smasdnavdsin (In-

(even in their respective devotees), we feel led with R. C. Zaehner (Dawn and
Twilight of Zoroastrianism , New York, 1961) in viewing this name as designating
the same deity in Iran and India as expressive of the daemonic side of Divinity.

4) Whether the term “asura” indicated an anti-god or demon at this time is
difficult to determine.

5) RV II.33.4: “Let us not anger Thee with imperfect worship.”

6) The fact that this litany dedicated to Rudra is still chanted today, makes it one
of the most ancient and long-lived hymns in the history of religions.

7) Many of these character traits were undoubtedly assimilated by Rudra from
various local folk or tribal cults during the period intervening between the Rig Veda
and the Upanisads.

8) Rudra is addressed as the High God Siva for the first time in the Svetasva-
tara Upanisad. In this text he has allocated to him all the appellations, traits and
functions of Brahman and is himself identified with the impersonal, all-embracing
divine principle of Vedanta.

Siva and Dionysos

183

habitant of the Burning Ground), Mahayogin or Yogesvara (Lord of
Yogins and Ascetics). In the Puranas and Agamas, the bi-polar nature
of Siva becomes even more definite and more central to the meaning
of his character. He appears to his followers in an androgynous and
ithyphallic form as Umdpaii (Consort of Ama, daughter of the moun¬
tain) and Ardhanarlsvara (Lord Who is Half Female). He incorporates
within his own complex person the marks of both male and female
sexes, a Divine Totality who procreates, sustains and destroys the
universe by his own powers without the necessity of resorting to any
agency outside himself. He is called Hari-Hara ( a composite form of
Visnu as Creator-Preserver and Siva as Destroyer), a divine modality
which embodies another type of bi-polarism—that of creation and
destruction. He is Siva-Sakti, a form in which the two genders are
merged with the female element taking the dominant role. Finally he
is a mighty warrior and a valiant leader of the divine troops (ganapati ),
universally exalted for certain heroic feats: (1) consumption of poison
left over from churning the ocean, (2) destruction of the citadels of
the three demons (tripurdsuramardini) , (3) destruction of Daksa’s
Horse Sacrifice (Daksayajhamardini) , and (4) support of the goddess
of the Ganges in his flowing locks (Gangadharam) . What had begun
as mere ambivalence and unpredictability in the character of Rudra, is
transformed in the Siva of the Epics and Puranas, into a complete
coincidence of contraries.

Briefly, Dionysos is taken by most scholars, both ancient and con¬
temporary, 9 ) to be a Thracian god of fertility and procreation whose
cult was introduced to the Greek mainland between the 7th and
6th centuries B.C. 10 ) As the source and dispenser of fecundating
powers, his mysterious presence was felt in all segments of the natural
world. n ) His vocation in the Hellenic world was begun as god of
vegetation in general and was particularly associated with trees of
various sorts (the pine, the spruce and the fig.) 12 ) Along with other
Hellenic deities he is addressed as AsvSpvrv^ or ’'EvSsvSpo^, ‘he who

9) W. F. Otto being the single interesting exception. See his Dionysos. Myth
and Cult. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1965, pp. 5^-65.

10) L. R. Famell. Cults of the Greek States. V, 109 ff.: E. R. Dodds Euripides
Bacchae (Edited with Introduction and Commentary) Oxford: At the Clarendon
Press, 1944, xviiiff.

11) Otto, Ibid., 152-60; Famell, Ibid., V, 123-25.

12) Otto, Ibid., 157-59; Famell, Ibid., V, 118-19.

184

J. Bruce Long

lives in the tree'. In Boeotia he is called, ‘he who lives and works in
trees'; 13 ) but his lordship over procreation and nutrition was extended
to indude all living things: animal, plant and mineral. The special
accouterments which he himself carried and which were borne by his
followers during festival time, give clear testimony to this facet of his
personality; among them are: the thrysus topped with sprigs of ivy
and a pinecone; branches of various types of trees; the phallus; kraters
or chalices filled with wine; and his many animal emblems.

As his cult became more and more firmly established in Greece, he
became more specifically identified as the wine-god. 14 ) He was the
raving god whose appearance drove his devotees mad and incited them
to perform ghastly actions, even ritual murder. Mysterious dedications
invoked him as Lord of Souls, and as the confidant and guide of the
Dead. 15 ) He was the god of most blessed ecstasy who, by means of the
gifts of dance, drink and music, brought his worshippers into closest
mystical union with his spirit. He was the embodiment of ecstatic joy
and dementing terror, of animal wildness and untamed vitality, the god
of terrifying presence and of most blessed deliverance, an enigmatic
god whose character showed a dual nature. Born of a human mother and
a divine father, he incorporated in his person the most incongruous and
unpredictable sets of contraries. Finally, Dionysos, as inhabitant of the
lower world and of all sorts of subterranean regions on earth (pools
of water, caves, etc.) also performed services of divination. Euripides
problaims that ‘the god is a great prophet, for madness and the Bacchic
inspiration have great power of soothsaying'. 16 ) His service was
clouded by mystery and his priest delivered oracles in a state of ecstasy;
but the god communicated with his devotees more directly through the
medium of dreams. 17 )

II. Structural Parallels in the Character and Cult of Siva

and Dionysos

A. Syncretistic deities and alien cults

It has long been recognized by students of Greek and Indian religious

13) Aiovuaoc; in Laconia: Athenaeus, p. 78c.

14) Farnell, Ibid., V. 118.

15) Farnell, Ibid., V, 128-32.

16) The Bacchae. Trans, by William Arrowsmith (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1959), lines 297-300.

17) Farnell, Ibid. } V. 132.

Siva and Dionysos

185

history that Siva and Dionysos are highly complex and syncretistic
deities, 18 ) whose characters embody numerous traits and properties
which previously had belonged to other gods. We should not be sur¬
prised, therefore, to find that such gods manifest within themselves
various facets and guises which are difficult to interrelate according to
any rational pattern. We can explain this diversity of aspects only by
viewing them as products of a lengthy evolution in which many local
or territorial gods were “universalized” or grafted onto the “parochial”
forms of divinity in the composition of their multifaceted characters. 19 )

The debate as to whether Rudra-Siva’s origins were Aryan or non-
Aryan, Vedic or non-Vedic has been raging for years. The study of the
origins of Saivism has been aided but little by many of the theories
which have been spun out to settle this perplexing issue. While North
Indian Hindi-speaking and European scholars have argued that Rudra-
Siva’s roots lie within the context of the Indo-European, Vedic, Sans-
kritic religious tradition and that the roots of both ‘Rudra’ and ‘Siva’
are to be derived directly from the Sanskrit, South Indian Tamil¬
speaking scholars have asserted that his roots lie in south India and
that the name ‘Siva’ is derived from a Tamil root. 20 ) The situation
was complicated greatly with the discovery of the famous steatite seal
at the Indus-Valley site of Harappa which shows a figure seated in a
“yogic” position, surrounded by various animals and sporting what
appear to be three faces—all of these traits characteristic of Siva from
the time of the Mahabharata onwards. 21 ) We find it most difficult
to place full credence in the view of Sir John Marshall that this figure
on the seal is a so-called “proto-Siva”. As J. Gonda has so convincingly
argued in his Change and Continuity in Indian Religion , 22 ) while we

18) Many of these character traits undoubtedly were assimilated by these gods
from various local folk or tribal cults as their worship became more popularized
and geographically widespread.

19) McKim Marriott, “Little Communities in an Indigenous Civilization ,, ,
Village India (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1955), pp. 171-222.

20) Those scholars who seek to derive the names Rudra and Siva from Sanskrit
sources, harken back to such native scholars as Yaska and Say ana, in tracing
Rudra to V rud, to cry or wail and Siva to V siv, to be gracious or auspicious.
Those who favor a Tamil derivation trace the name Siva back to a root V siv,
red or ruddy.

21) Sir John Marshall, Mohenjo Daro and the Indus Civilisation. 3 vols.,
London, 1931.

22) Jan Gonda, Change and Continuity in Indian Religion. The Hague: Mou-
ton & Co., 1965, pp. 7-37.

/. Bruce Long

186

may not be justified in rejecting completely the notion that this figure
is a “proto-Siva”, there are too many questions and difficulties involved
in giving the theory full acceptance.

Nor do we find convincing the essay by R. N. Dandekar, entitled,
“Rudra in the Vedas”, 23 ) in which the proposal is made that Rudra
was originally a non-Vedic, Dravidian “God of the Dead” whose cult
was accepted with great reluctance by the priests of the Vedic hier¬
archical religion when they were confronted with a militantly advancing
cult which threatened to overshadow the accepted Vedic system. He
attempts to fortify this contention by invoking Rudra's irascible and
terrifying nature, his capacity to inflict with disease and death and the
supposed Tamil derivation of the name “Siva”. He also makes mention
of the fact that whereas most of the other Vedic gods are linked in
pairs for specific purposes, Rudra is unrelated to any other god except
Soma in a single hymn. (RV VI. 74).

To attempt a refutation of all these points would take us far beyond
the limits of this paper. Suffice to say that, point for point, there is
opposing evidence to indicate an Aryan and a Vedic origin for Rudra
and evidence which is more sound, less speculative than that which
Dandekar brings forth. One thing seems to us to be decisive. One of
Rudra’s principle modes of manifestation in the Vedas is ‘Sarva’ or
'the Divine Archer’. 24 ) This Rudra-Sarva is markedly reminiscent of
‘Sarva’ or ‘Saurva’, the god of the divine sheath in the Avesta. 25 ) This
god, like Rudra-Sarva shoots arrows which bring disease and death and
betrays a most ambivalent attitude towards mankind. On the basis of
these two facts, we are led to argue that the Avestan and the Vedic
Sarva indicate one and the same god, the latter being merely an
“Indianized” version of the former. If this, in fact, is the case, then
the picture which emerges is that the core of his character is Indo-
Iranian and that as early as the Sukla-Yajurveda (ca. 1100-1000 B.C.)
the somewhat strange and apparently non-Vedic elements were adopted
by him from certain local non-Aryan peoples, possibly Dravidian and
tribal. 26 ) By assimilating these traits which may have been foreign

23) Journal of the University of Poona (1953), pp. 94-148.

24) I.114.10; II.33.10, 14; V.42.11; VI.16.39; VI.74.4.

25) R. C. Zaehner, Dawn and Twilight of Zoroastrianism, p. 35.

26) One might even speculate that the ecstatic and erotic elements in the Rudra-
Siva cult were drawn from such non-Aryan, indigenous layers of society.

Siva and Dionysos

187

to the Vedic cult, Rudra’s position was solidified in the new environ¬
ment and the native peoples who were conquered by the invading
Aryans were placated and acommodated by this more comprehensive
and ‘elitist’ religious system.

The fact remains, however, that although Rudra is essentially Aryan
and Vedic in character, he is often given a less hospitable reception
by the Vedic priesthood. He seems on occasion to be more feared than
loved. It may have been the early and rapid assimilation of the elements
of indigenous cults and the baleful and destructive side of his nature
that accounts for the discrimination against him in the Vedic texts.

The presence of many non-Brahmanical elements in his nature is
supported by the testimony of the texts that he inhabited hills and forests
belonging to various tribal peoples (notably the Nisadhas) and that he
was addressed as the patron of thieves, outcasts, cheats, land-grabbers
and highwaymen. 27 ) Again, he is represented as the lord of both beasts
and cattle (mrga and pasu ) and was closely identified with a wild tribe
of hunters ( Nisadhas ) who also were robbers and fishers. Many textual
references link him with certain non-Brahmanical cults, such as the
munis and yogis and in the fifteenth chapter of the Atharvaveda, he is
said to be the lord of the “Vratyas”. Finally, he is often associated
with serpent worship and fertility and water spirits such as Yaksas—all
common features of non-Brahmanical worship. 28 )

Even though Rudra emerged from obscurity in the post-vedic times
and took on many features of a ‘High God’, he was not, even then,
venerated unambiguously as a ‘high-caste' deity. The Satapatha Brah-
mana (1.7.3.1) states that the other gods ( devas ) went up to heaven
and ignored Rudra (= pasupati ); whereupon, this Pasupati rose up
in anger, raised his weapon in the north (the direction which is sacred
to him as Girlsa, lord of mountains) and struck them with terror. So
terrified were the other gods that they finally resigned themselves to
admitting Rudra to the yajna-oi ferings, for previously he has been
restricted to receiving the bali-oi ferings only. In the Grhyasutras 29 )
there is a bull sacrifice called ‘Sulagava’, the after-effects of which were

27) Cf. Tait. Samh. IV.5.1-11; Vaj. Samh. XVI.

28) Henry Whitehead, Village Gods of South India. Madras, 1917, p. 17;
A. B. Keith, Religion and Philosophy of the Vedas and Upanisads. [Harvard
Oriental Series, Vols. XXXI and XXXII.] Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard Univer¬
sity Press, 1914, p. 145.

29) Asvalayana Grhya Sutra. IV.8.40.

J. Bruce Long

188

so polluting that the devotees were commanded to perform the rite out¬
side the limits of the village and bury the residue there.

The most convincing evidence for the late adoption of Rudra-Siva
into the Brahmanic pantheon and his tardy acceptance by the priesthood,
is found in the story of Siva’s rejection from the great Horse Sacrifice
(. Hayamedha ) of Daksa, his father-in-law in the Epic. 30 ) All the
gods ( devas), demi-gods (Gandharvas and Apsaras ), and even the
anti-god (Daityas and Danavas) had been invited to the festive event
on the “breast of Himavat”. Only Siva had been excluded. Enraged
by this blasphemous act, Siva created from the white-hot potency of his
own being, a demonic creature, Virabhadra, who in turn, destroyed
Daksa’s sacrifice and threatened to consume the entire world with it.
In fear for the preservation of the world, Daksa performed penance
to Siva and sought his blessings by intoning his 1008 divine names;
at which time Siva was invited to partake in the fruits of Daksa’s
sacrifice which had been restored.

Except for a few slight deviations, we find much the same situation
obtaining in the introduction of the cult of Dionysos on the mainland
of Greece. The main difference is that while the ‘non-Establishment’
elements in Siva’s character were native to the indigenous tribes of India,
the non-Olympian elements in Dionysos were imported into Greece
from the outside—Thrace and Phrygia to the north and Asia Minor to
the east. Most scholars agree that Euripide’s Bacchae is a dramatic
representation of the folly which fell on all those in Greece who turned
their backs on Dionysos and refused to accept him as a legitimate son
of Zeus. 31 ) Dionysos himself declares, “the men of Thebes blasphemed
me. They slandered me; they said I came of mortal man. These crimes
his people whom I cherished well did from malice to their benefactor.
Therefore, I now disclose the sufferings in store for them.” 32 ) Again,
he shouts as he enters the palace courtyard at Thebes, “For I have come
to refute that slander spoken by my mother’s sisters (who) said I was

30) Mahdbhdrata (Trans, by P, C. Roy) Calcutta: Oriental Publishing Co.,
Sabhaparvan, sect. 285.

31) Dodds, op. cit., p. ix; Arrowsmith, “Introducing to the Bacchae”, in Vol.
IV of The Complete Greek Tragedies (Ed. by David Grene and Richard Latti-
more) Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1959, pp. 530ff. All quotations in
the paper from this drama are taken from the Arrowsmith translation.

32) Bacchae : Lacuna between lines 1328 and 1330.

Siva and Dionysos

189

no son of Zeus but Semele had slept beside a man in love and fathered
off her shame on Zeus.” 33 )

The people of Thebes were forced to undergo these tortuous ordeals,
for the city had to “learn its lesson; it lacks initiation in my mysteries;
that I shall vindicate my mother Semele and stand revealed to mortal
eyes the god she bore to Zeus.” So Dionysos, enraged by these slander¬
ous rejections of his cult, vowed to prove to every man in Thebes, by
whathever means necessary, that he is divine and that his cult is holy.

All these facts and many more indicate that Dionysos is not native
to the Greek mainland. This fact is recognized by almost every scholar,
ancient and modern—W. F. Otto being the single interesting excep¬
tion. 34 )

In two places in the Bacchae 35 ) he is referred to as a Divine Stranger,
as though he had recently arrived from alien parts. Pentheus himself
declares that he will drive Dionysos and his revel rout from Thebes by
military might “whoever Dionysos may be”. By his own admission in
the opening lines of the drama, Dionysos is returning to his homeland
in Thebes, after having journeyed from Lydia and Phrygia across the
steppes of Persia, “through Bactrian fastness and grim waste of Media,
to rich Arabia and to Greece”. 36 )

In Homer Dionysos is not yet an Olympian divinity. On the Parthenon
frieze he takes his place among the seated, rather than the standing,
gods. Somewhere between the time of Homer and Pheidias, his accep¬
tance into the fold of Greek civic religion had been completed. 37 ) In
the Iliad (VI. i3off.) we read that Lycurgus, a Thracian king, son of
Dryas, was “not long in life, he of old who raised 'gainst gods his hand”.
The Nursing Nymphs of Dionysos first blinded him with their holy
wands and then 'plunged him 'neath the salt sea wave'. The essential
thing in the story of the murder of Lycurgus, the factor which recurs
again and again, is the rage against the dominance of a new god, “the
blind mad fury, the swift helpless collapse at the touch of a real
force.” 38 )

33 ) 11 . 25-30.

34) Consult footnote number 9 above.

35) 11. 233 and 1042.

36) Bacchae , 13-15, 86.

37) Jane E. Harrison, Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion. Cambridge:
University Press, 1903, p. 365.

38) Ibid., p. 369.

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190

The testimony of Greek historians (most notably Herodotus, VIII.
110) confirms the view that Dionysos was a late immigrant to Greece
by linking him with certain barbaric hill-tribes in Thrace, 39 ) Hero¬
dotus identifies the Satrae as a wild, unconquered hill-tribe, whose
livelihood consisted in highway-robbery, land-grabbing and brigandage
of all sorts. Strabo 40 ) knows them as the fiercest of robber-tribes who
lived on and around Mt. Haemus and reports that they were “called
brigands by the brigands”. Here among those splendid unconquerable
savages in their mountain fastnesses was the real home of the god
Dionysos.

One final piece of evidence must be mentioned. Jane Harrison 41 )
describes a design from an amphora of the 6th century B.C. which
pictures eight gods in a line, four on either side of Zeus, the latter deity
being in the process of giving birth to Athena. Dionysos is situated at
the extreme left side of the picture, “markedly aloof from the main
section”. She attributes great significance to the subordinate position
of Dionysos and notes that “Hermes seems to come as a messenger to
the furtherest verge of Olympus to tell him the news. At the right, the
other Northerner, Apollo, occupies the last place.”

As we noticed in the case of Rudra-Siva, so with Dionysos: the intro¬
duction of his cult into the mainstream of the Hellenic religious tradition
created great social and spiritual upheavals. His ambivalent nature, the
mystical nature of the experience to which he led those who surrendered
their wills in his, and the wild, uncultured orgiastic rites which were
employed to achive the desired union with the god appear to be aberrant
and untamed when placed within the context of Olympian civic religion.
Just as the cult of Rudra-Siva, with its worship of phallic and serpent
deities, its connection with groves and local cult-places did not belong
originally to the mainstream of Brahmanic tradition, but to the alien

39) Although the traditional scholarly opinion is that Dionysos migrated to the
mainland of Greece from the Thracian hills in the north and from Asia Minor to
the East, there is that most perplexing appearance of his name in the listing of
deities in Linear B. Whether he was a god of vegetation or fertility in general,
whether he had any connections with bulls or serpents (as did the Cretan Zeus),
or whether there was an independent cult to Dionysos, is not clear. We know
only that a certain deity called Dionysos had sufficient status in Crete between the
12th and 10th centuries B.C. to be included in a pantheonic list. Cf. W. K. C. Gu¬
thrie, Orpheus and Greek Religion. London: Methuen & Co., 1934, pp. 110-13.

40) VII. 318.

41) Harrison, Ibid. f p. 365.

Siva and Dionysos

191

and 'atheistic' peoples ( mleccha ), even so the germinal roots of the cult
of Dionysos lay with those peoples who were considered by the Greeks
to be rough and uncivilized (barbaroi ). In each instance, the god and
his cult was adopted by the established tradition (Brahmanic and Olym¬
pian) only after some of the more radical, irrational and aberrant traits
and practices had been softened or deleted entirely by the hierarchical
priesthood.

B. Their Modes of Manifestation

The Sacred or the Holy never appears in the natural and finite world
in its pure and primal essence. In order for it to appear at all, for it to
express its nature and meaning, it must necessarily become embodied
in or speak through a form or structure within the temporal-spatial
world. Conversely, mankind cannot encounter or become conversant
with the Sacred except by becoming open and sensitive to those media
through which he is addressed. Once he has been addressed by the
Sacred and has discovered that his own small world is not closed off
from the cosmos, that man is compelled to give expression through
myths and symbols to that “word" which he has received from powers
lying beyond the limits of his immediate environment and, thereby, make
its nature and meaning known to the wider community. In order to
preserve this privileged meeting with the Sacred Powers and to keep
it from being lost in the shades of forgetfulness, the one who was
addressed seeks to invest this 'faceless Power' with a name, with per¬
sonal characteristics such as ideas, values and attitudes—in a word, to
anthropomorphize the Sacred. Thus, the media through which the
Sacred first spoke to him are 'solidified,' so to speak, and are established
objectively in symbols, myths and ritual gestures to serve as points of
encounter in the future.

Hence, we can derive a great deal of insight into the nature of a
people's religious beliefs by analyzing the modes or forms through
which their god appears to them and, on the other side, those forms in
which men symbolize that experience. In like manner, we can determine
the nature of the deity—whether he is kind and generous, or wrathful
and niggardly in his dealings with men—and in what ways his devotees
relate to him. Once again we find a great many points of similarity
between the natures of Siva and Dionysos with respect to their modes
of manifestation.

192

/. Bruce Long

In the Rig Veda, Rudra has attributed to him the traits of brilliance,
effulgence and radiance that are given to all the other divinities. He
charges through the middle region of the universe seated on a charioc
(II. 33.11), an image which presumably indicates that he rides on the
back of the winds as lord of the tempest. His limbs are firm and his
lips are beauiful. (II. 33.9) Like Pusan, another god with solar attri¬
butes who is lord of paths and guide to travellers, Rudra has strands
of long flowing hair, braided and rolled up on top of his head to form
a cowrie-shell configuration. This latter trait is reminiscent of the
fashion in which many non-Aryan, tribal peoples and the ascetic munis
wore their hair. He carries various weapons which possess the same
ambivalent powers to heal and destroy as he himself does: the thunder¬
bolt, a club, bow and arrows, and an unspecified ‘sharp weapon’ (VII.
29.5; X. 125.6). He possesses all the martial virtues that one normally
associates with military deities. He is said to be vigorous (I. 33.4,8),
fierce (II.33.9), youthful (II. 33.11), impetuous (II. 33.14). swift (V.
52.16) and a mighty bull (II. 33.6). In numerous hymns he appears as
the awesome ( ugra ) form of Agni, blazing in the sky like a hundred
suns.

In the Satarudrlya litany mentioned earlier, he manifests himself
in the most awful and grotesque fashion. He is yellow-haired (as is
Dionysos), ruddy, tall and dwarfish at the same time. He encompasses
all forms and has the power to appear in any form that he wishes. He
is invoked as ‘mountain dweller’ ( giritra ) and ‘lord of the mountain’
(girlsa ). He is described as fierce and deformed ( virupa ) as he is seen
running about madly through the forest in the company of wild animals,
wearing the skins of those which he has slaughtered—especially tigers,
elephants and buffaloes. Again, he carries in his hands various weapons
of destruction, such as the thunderbolt ( vijaya ), the trident ( trisula ),
an iron lance (ayasulikah ), a noose ( pdsah ), and a battle axe ( parasu ).
As the form of Bhairava (‘the Terrible’) he is surrounded by wild,
howling dogs which swallow their victims without chewing them.

In the Mahabharata his ambivalence and unpredictability are even
more pronounced. He is blue-throated from performing the salutary
act of consuming the poison left over from the churning of the cosmic
ocean. 42 ) As Mahayogin (‘Great Yogin’ he has three eyes (representing

42) Mahabharata, Adiparvan, sect. 18.

Siva and Dionysos

193

the sun, moon and sacrificial fire respectively), the central of which
is both the eye of spiritual insight and divine wisdom on the one hand,
and of terrifyingly destructive power, on the other. It was from this eye
on the forehead that he shot the 'cosmic ray’ which consumed to ashes
Kama, the God of Love, for disturbing his yogic-meditation. 43 )

Again, he is the god who inhabits the burning ground ( Smdsdnavdsin )

whose appearance with his ghoulish retinue is sudden and horrifying,

causing pandemonium and panic among his devotees. His coming is

often announced with the mysterious sounds of drums, flutes and

cymbal's. Around his neck is a necklace of skulls which he gathers from

the funeral pyres. A single skull sits at the base of his platted locks. He

rubs his body with the ashes of the dead when performing the ferocious

and destructive Tandava dance in the crematoria and commands his

• •

attendants to do likewise. As the embodiment of the powers of creation
and dissolution,, he is Hara-Hara (a composite of Siva and Visnu)
whose body is terrific ( ghora ) on the one side and benign ( saumya ) on
the other. He rides in procession on a bull named Nandi ('Blissful One’)
and may himself appear in bull form (vrsamurti) . He is the god of the
phallus ( lingam ), the organ through which he performs all activities
in promoting the natural process—creation, preservation and destruction.
In the middle ages (ca. 6th or 7th centuries A.D.) the phallus became
his most pervasive forms of manifestation and one of his sects (the
Lingayats) wear the Lingam around their necks as an emblem of
their faith.

In summary, Siva is said to possess many faces which he employs at
different times to fulfill various purposes. In the hymn of 1008 names,
the sage Upamanyu declares,

Thou hast a face like that of Nandi,

Thou has a face that is terrible, {ghora)

Thou hast a handsome, thou hast an ugly face, ( virupa )

Thou art without a face. ( nifmurti )

Thou hast four faces, and

Thou hast a fiery face when engaged in battle. 44 )

Dionysos, like Siva is a composite of many contraries—in appearance
and in personality. In Euripides' Bacchae, he appears in the guise of
a young man; he is handsome, youthful and courageous. In the stage

43) Mahabharata, Anusasanaparvan, sect. 140, 23 ff.

44) Mahabharata, Santiparvan, sect. 285. 84-85.

Numen XVIII

194

J. Bruce Long

directions he is described as having “a soft, even effeminate appear¬
ance.” 45 ) His face is beardless and he is dressed in the customary
fawn-skin which he wears in the company of the frenzied dancers who
attend him. In his hand he carries the thrysus (a stalk of fennel) tipped
with ivy leaves and a pine cone. It is this concealment of a pine cone
or spear-point beneath the sprigs of ivy which is used to injure or kill
those who provoke his wrath, which indicates most clearly the ambivalent
mixture of benevolence and malevolence in his nature. His head is
draped with a wreath of ivy or a snake (Siva also wears serpents draped
around his head, neck or body) and a cascade of long blond curls
ripple down his shoulders, which, like the long flowing braids of Siva,
twirl about his head as he performs the whirling cultic dance. Through¬
out the drama he wears a smiling mask which, again, conceals his truly
ferocious and demonic nature.

King Pentheus, who now occupies the throne of Thebes and vows to
conquer the drunken followers of Dionysos with his military might,
provides a most vivid account of the appearance of this god from
Thrace,

I am also told a foreigner has come to Thebes
from Lydia, one of those charlatan magicians
with long yellowish curls smelling of perfumes,
with flushed cheeks and the spells of Aphrodite
in his eyes. His days and nights he spends
with women and girls, dangling before them the joys
of initiation in his mysteries. 46 )

Dionysos may appear with a bull or in the form of a bull. The wine
cup, a cutting of ivy and a phallus may serve as his emblem. His
appearance is both pacific and terrifying, is known by his devotees to
be both beneficent and malevolent, both loving and hateful towards
whomever he chooses. Like Siva, he carries a noose for the purpose of
ensnaring his enemies or gaining military advantage by force. 47) Again,
we get a picture of him that is very reminiscent of Siva as he dances
with wildest abandon through the forests and glens and on the sides of
mountains, clothed in the skins of animals which he and his retinue
have devoured (e.g. fawn, he-goats, bulls). With the light of flaming

45) Arrowsmith, Ibid., p. 543 ; see also lines 234-40, 353, 453.

46) lines 233-38.

47) Bacchae, 1019.

Siva and Dionysos

195

torches opening a path through the darkness, he and his revelers race
and dance to the accompaniment of the thunderous beat of the kettle¬
drum, the shrill cry of flutes and the savage shouts of his comrades.

C. Places of Residence

Since some mention has been made of the abodes of these gods in
other connections, we need only touch on the topic here. As we noticed
before, in the Satarudriya hymn Rudra is invoked as Giritra (‘he who
lives in the hills') and as Girisa (‘lord of mountains'). Elsewhere, he is
seen abiding in the woods, forests, glens, in both wooded and deserted
wastes far from human settlements; he haunts lonely roads and en¬
counters travelers at intersections (which are, in India, as elsewhere,
most inauspicious places frequented by evil spirits and robbers). He
is both lord and comrade of such outcastes as thieves, scoundrels, cheats
and land-grabbers. In the same hymn, he is said to be “seen by herdsmen
and young girls who come to the wells to draw water" out from the
village. We should also recall that the bull-sacrifice ( Sulagava ) was to
be performed at a great distance from places inhabited by human beings
and domesticated animals so as to guard such places from the evil
effects of this rite. He shares with Pusan the lordship over paths and
roads to distant places and over travelers who busy these routes. Finally,
in the Great Epic, Siva as Mahayogin, is the patron deity of those who
abide in the forest ( vanaprasthas ) and of wandering ascetics. He lives
with his consort, Parvati, on Mt. Kailasa (elsewhere, Mt. Meru) in the
north where, along with their attendants, they engage in frivolous play
(lila) and ascetic penances ( tapas ). Again, he is seen dancing in the
crematoria ( smasdna ) which always lie in lonely and deserted areas,
in the company of ghosts and goblins.

Like his Indian counterpart, Dionysos lived on mountains and hill¬
tops, in forests and grassy glens. He allured his female devotees from
the ‘shuttle and the loom’ and from their household duties to idyllic
shaded spots beneath the jagged rocks of rugged cliffs. In such places
Dionysos and his Maenads (‘mad' or ‘holy' women) danced and sang to
the pandemonius accompaniment of drums, flutes and cymbals and
feasted on the still-warm flesh of a goat or fawn which they had
slaughtered with their bare hands. The scene of his residence is vividly
described in the Bacchae as the Chorus calls the women of Thebes to
the revels of the wine-god,

196

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... O city,

with boughs of oak and fir,
come dance the dance of god!

Fringe your skins of dappled fawn
with tufts of twisted wool!

Handle with holy care
the violent wand of god!

And let the dance begin!

He is Bromius who runs
to the mountain!

to the mountain!

where the throng of women waits,
driven from shuttle and loom,
possessed by Dionysos! 48 )

Again, he is depicted in this drama as ‘lord of hunters', ‘master of the
chase'; it is he who hunts wild animals and delights in their raw-flesh.
As noted earlier, he was probably the god of a war-like tribe called the
Satrae who lived in the remote hills of Thrace and maintained their
livelihood by brigandage.

D. Animal and Serpentine Associations

The particular animal with which a god is associated or in which he
is embodied depends, in part, upon those animals to which the people pay
particular heed either in the form of fear or veneration. As students
of comparative mythology have long recognized, the nature and actions
of a deity do often reflect directly the life-style and values of those who
worship him. If a people is most fascinated by the eagle, most fright¬
ened by the lion or most ingratiated by the cow, it is most likely that
this Divinity will present himself to men in that animal guise. In India,
Siva most generally is associated with the buffalo, the elephant or the
tiger; but, from Vedic times on, he was most particularly related to
the bull. In Greece, Dionysos, on different occasions, might appear in
the form of a bull, a leopard or a lion, though he is also known to take
up abode in a he-goat or an ass as well. 49 )

In an article entitled, “Siva and Dionysos", 50 ) Willibald Kirfel,
drawing upon the thesis of Franz Altheim 51 ) that in prehistoric times
a cult of the bull was dominant throughout the Mediterranean world,

48) 11. 109-19.

49) Otto, Ibid., 165-70.

50) Zeitschrift fur Ethnologie. LXXVIII, 83-90.

51) Italien und Rom (2nd ed.) Amsterdam-Leipzig (1943).

Siva and Dionysos

19 7

stretching from Asia Minor to Spain and A. K. Coomaraswamy's 52 )
contention that parallels exist between the iconography of ancient
India and that of the Mediterranean Sea area and Western Europe in
general, raises the question: is it not possible that by comparing all these
iconographic forms we might not discover a connection between the cults
of Siva and Dionysos by way of a common association with this ancient
bull cult? He supports an affirmative answer to this question by citing
various types of evidence in literature and iconography which link both
Siva and Dionysos to the bull. He concludes that the crescent moon
which Siva always wears in his hair, originally designated not a lunar,
but a bovine, symbolism. He reasons that, “Die Mondsichel auf Siva's
Haupt hat ursprunglich mit dem Monde nichts zu tun, sondern stellt die
weiss schimmemden Stierhorner dar, eine Erklarung, auf die, soweit
ich sehe, seltsamerweise bisher noch niemand gekommen zu sein scheint.
Es handelt sich also um ein charakteristisches Merkmal, das sich seit
unvordenklichen Zeiten bis auf den heutigen Tag erhalten hat und Siva
uns ursprunglich als einen Stiergott kennzeichnet.” 53 )

Since it is not the object of this paper to debate the possibility of
some historical linkage or cross-cultural influence between Saivism
and Dionysianism, we shall by-pass the temptation to refute Kirfel's
arguments, though, frankly, we do find them far-fetched and un¬
convincing. All we need grant Kirfel to serve our purposes is that both
Siva and Dionysos, from earliest times, have been associated with the
bull and with a more comprehensive bovine symbolism which is expres¬
sive of such virtues as strength, prowess and fertility. We will comment
on this matter only as it relates to the topic of morphological parallels
between the two deities.

As is well-known to Indologists, there appears on the coins and seals
of ancient Indian rulers a white bull (i.e. Nandi?) which serves as the
vehicle, servant and friend of Siva and its likeness is revered by Siva's
spouse, Uma-Parvatl and by his later devotees. 54 ) In the iconographic
chapter of the Agnipurdna (L. 39), Nandi appears with the attributes
of a rosary and a trident as the door-guardian ( dvarapala ) of Siva's

5 2) History of Indian and Indonesian Art. New York: Dover Publications,

1965, 13 f.

53) Kirfel, Ibid., p. 86.

54) A. Cunningham, Coins of Ancient India. 1891, section dealing with the
development of Saiva iconography on coins.

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J. Bruce Long

shrine: here in contrast to the majority of cases, his cult image is drawn
in anthropomorphic form. On all the coins of Wima Kadphises (ca.
A.D. 78-ca. no), Siva appears attended by the predecessors of Kaniska
and by his worshippers “with or without the bull, with two arms and a
nimbus”. 55 ) Certain gold pieces have been found dating from the
reign of Vasudeva I (ca. A.D. 185-220), the last of the rulers of the
Kusana-dynasty, showing the three-faced and four-armed Siva with
the bull as his attendant. 56 )

Not only in the plastic arts but in legend, poetry and drama as well,
Siva’s connection with the bull is registered. For example, in two places
in the Mahabharata 57 ) he is called “vrsavdhana”, or in III.84.129,
“vrsadhvaja” , “he who rides with a bull on his banner”. Kalidasa, in
his play entitled Kumdrasambhava (V. 80) invokes Siva as “vrsena
gacchatah” (‘he who rides about upon the bull”) or at V. 84 he is,
“vrsardjaketana” (‘the king who has the bull as his characteristic
mark’). Similarly in the Garudapurdna (Adhy. 55 . 11 ) Siva is addressed
with the epithet, “vrsabhadhvaja”. 58 )

As early as the Rig Veda, Rudra possesses the appellation ‘the great
bull’ and ‘the wild bull of heaven’. Like Indra, the other storm god,
he is constantly referred to as a ‘bull’, as well as a ram {mesa). 59 ) If
it is ever confirmed that the seated figure at Harappa is, in fact, a
prefiguration of the Hindu Siva, then his close bond of kinship with
the animals will have been pushed back to prehistoric times.

In the Satarudriya, Rudra is again “the great bull” and “lord of
cattle” {pasupati). Mention should be made in this context of the
bull offering (Sulagava) recorded in the Grhyasutras. The evidence
need not be multiplied further.

Siva’s association with serpentine figures as seen in both literature
and iconography, is ancient and enduring. On the faces of early coins
and in early stone sculpture he is represented as wearing serpents as
body ornaments around his platted hair, on his diadem, over his right
shoulder as a surrogate for the Brahmanical sacred thread (up amt a)

55) Coomaraswamy, Ibid., p. 75.

56) Coomaraswamy, Ibid., p. 55, 1. 30, fig. 126.

57) (Bombay Edition), Adiparvan, sect. 197.21.

58) Also at 55.3 and 57.8.

59) RV I.51.

Siva and Dionysos

199

and around his waist as a girdle. 60 ) The dwarf ( apasmdra , lit. 'non¬
recollection’; Tamil, muyalaka , 'forgetfulness’) on which he dances as
Nataraja, holds a cobra in his hands. 61 ) The ring of fire which sur¬
rounds his dancing body originates at either end from the mouths of
two reptiles ( makaras ). 62 ) He is frequently invoked as 'lord of the
nagas’ and is prayed to by many peoples at the beginning of the rainy
season to protect them from the death-dealing venom of the snakes and
to fecundate the cattle and the married females. 63 ) Elsewhere he is
said to abide with the snakes which stand guard over the Divine Treasure
of Kubera at the heart of mountains or at the bottom of ant-, mole-
or snake-holes.

Dionysos quite often manifested himself as the embodiment of the
"powers of procreation’’ and the "powers of nutrition” by assuming
the specialized form of the bull. There was nothing unusual in this, for
so closely had the bull and fecundation come to be identified in ancient
Greece that gods of the river and of moisture came to be known generally
as taking on this bovine mode appearance. Dionysos’ bovine form reminds
us again of his association with water, fecundation and procreation in
general, (see next section) for the bull was considered to be the bearer
of such powers in divine form. The association of the bull and water
is clearly set forth by his cult, for in Argos the Bull Dionysos (Pouycvyjg
Ai6voao<;) was summoned out of the deep by trumpet blasts. 64 )

Dionysos was known to appear to his devotees in bovine guise, not
only because of his association with the element of moisture and the
powers of fertility, but because of the frenzied and terrifying manner
in which he appeared to his followers and the "divine madness” and

60) Consult such standard works on Hindu Iconography as A. K. Coomaras-
wamy, History of Indian and Indonesian Art] T. A. Gopinatha Rao, Elements
of Hindu Iconography. Madras, 1914-15, or H. Zimmer, Art of Indian Asia.
New York: Pantheon Books, 1955.

61) T. A. G. Rao, Ibid., Vol. II, Pt. 1, pp. 221-70.

62) See Coomaraswamy, The Dance of Siva. New York: The Noonday Press,
1957 .

63) J. Ph. Vogel, Serpent Lore. London, 1926, p. 11; M. Winternitz, “Der
Sarpabali, ein Altendischer Schlangenkult”. Mitteil der Anthropologische Ge-
sellschaft in Wien, 18 (1888); Wm. Crooke, “Serpent Worship”. Encyclopaedia
of Religion and Ethics XI, 418 fff

64) Plutarch, Mor. De Is. et Os. 35 (364F).

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J. Bruce Long

“holy horror” with which he struck them by his very presence. 65 )
According to a passage in Athenaeus 66 ) Dionysos was compared to
a bull because of the mania which intoxication by wine provokes.

Furthermore, Dionysos is addressed as “lord of animals” and as
“master of the hunt”. In the Bacchae 67 ) Agave, after slaughtering her
son Pentheus, calls upon her Lord Bacchus as 'fellow huntsman/
'comrade of the chase crowned with victory’ and later expresses hope
that she may convert him to the Dionysiac cult by making an inspired
hunter out of him—obviously an ideal to be realized by every follower
of Bacchus. He assumed the form of a bull in the jail in which Pen¬
theus had thrown him earlier in the guise of a young man. Again, after
Dionysos had persuaded Pentheus, disguised as a Maenad himself, to
witness the Bacchic revels of the crazed women, he seized the King’s
mind and forced him to cry out, “...you are a bull which walks before
me there. Horns have sprouted from your head. Have you always been
a beast? But now I see a bull.” 68 ) After Pentheus has been slaughtered
and dismembered by the Maenads, led by his mother, Dionysos leads
the King along the path to Hades in the form of a bull-calf. 69 )

This was not Dionysos’ earliest appearance in bull-form. Bull statues
were not an uncommon sight in Greece according to Plutarch. 70 )
Athenaeus 71 ) remarks that Dionysos was frequently depicted with
horn and was called the 'bull’ by many poets. Zagreus is overpowered
and dismembered by Titans after he has undergone numerous trans¬
formations and has appeared in the form of a bull. 72 ) In the Bacchae
again the women invoke their god in the woods in words reflecting an
ancient incarnation, “O, Dionysos, reveal yourself a bull! Be manifest,
a snake with darting head, a lion breathing fire! O Bacchus come!”
They wore crowns of horns on their heads in imitation of the deity.
On a vase-painting, located in the Wurzburg Museum, 73 ) he is pictured
riding on a black bull and pouring wine from a pitcher to water the
plants below. Poseidon, the bull-god of the waters, appears on the

65) Otto, Ibid., p. 166.

66) Ath. 2.38E.

67) 1 . 114S.

68) lines 920 ff.

69) line 1159.

70) Plutarch, Ibid., 35.

71) 11. 476A.

72) Nonnus, Dionysus. 6.19ff; Farnell. Ibid., V, 126.

73) Harrison, Ibid., Fig. 134, p. 435.

Siva and Dionysos

201

reverse side with a trident riding a white bull. With the juxtaposition of
the bull, river-god and the bull-formed Dionysos as god of wine, the
symbolic complex is complete: Dionysos-bull-wine-plants-fertility.

Finally the most vived expression of this mystical relation between
Dionysos and the bull is what was known in the Bacchic rites as
‘Omophagia’. The women, once they had become fully possessed by
the spirit of the god, became Bacchoi by ravenously devouring the raw
flesh of a bull (sometimes a goat or fawn). In this way, they acquired
all the powers and properties of the god which resided for the moment
in that animal. The women of Elia, who called upon him in a song 74 )
saw him appearing as a bull, for he came only “to be killed and butchered
by the mad Thyiads so that they could appropriate the power of the god
to themselves”. 75 )

His connection with serpents is equally informative. In The Bacchae,
we learn that ‘the bull-horned god was bom of Zeus and Zeus crowned
his head with snakes.” (ioi) Snakes were draped around the heads
and waists of the dancing Maenads and were carried about in their
hands as a cultic instrument. In some cases, these serpentine head-
bands are entwined with sprigs of ivy or fir branches. Both the snakes
and the ivy represent chthonic powers of life and death, or procreation
and destruction. As elsewhere, so in Greece, snakes lived in subter¬
ranean groundswells, near pools, lakes or tombs and were seen by the
religious imagination as overseers of the divine treasures of life and
death.

E. Properties as Fertility Gods

To the Greeks of the Classical Age, Dionysos was not solely or even
primarily the god of wine. Plutarch says as much and confirms the claim
with a quotation from Pindar (frag. 140). He was predominantly linked,
in the early period of the development of his cult, at least, with forces
of fertility and procreation. Some of his titles and powers attest to this
function. As ‘Dendrites’, he is the god of vines and trees, of fir and
ivy. 76 ) He is called ‘Anthios’, god of blossoming things and ‘Phytal-
mios’, god of growth. 77 ) He was, again, ‘Karpios’, the fruit bringer,

74) Dodds, Ibid., xvii.

75) Plutarch, Mor. Quaest Graec. 36 (299b).

76) M. P. Nilsson, Grieschische Feste von religioser Bedeutung mit ausschluss
der Attischen (Leipzig, 1906), p. 292. ( Ba . 25, 79, 81, 105-10).

77) Bacchae, 25, 79, 81, 105-10. Cf. Famell, Ibid., V. 118-20, 123-25.

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J. Bruce Long

and Thleus’ or ‘Phleos’, the abundance of life. His domain was every
reservoir of vital energy. Plutarch again assigns to him lordship over
the 'wet-element’ in all living things: the running sap in the trees, the
life-blood surging through the veins of young animals and the liquid
fire in the grape. He was identified, in brief, with all the mysterious
and uncontrollable forces which ebb and flow in all forms of
life, 78 )

As the son of Semele, a Thracian goddess of procreation, Dionysos
was the Earth,, which goes through the cycles of death and rebirth
annually. Most classical scholars 79 ) (among them Harrison and
W. Otto) argue that the act of waking the baby Dionysos who is sleeping
in a watery crib, performed by this nurses or Maenads, is symbolic of
the resurrection of the young god who had been killed and eaten by
the Titans. As ‘Liknites’, he is an Osiris-type god who is ritually slain
and dismembered and then reborn as a small boy. The Liknites which
was both a winnowing fan and a threshing floor, becomes the cradle
in which the slain god is reborn. Thus, he joins such religious figures
as Adonis and Osiris, Tammuz and Baal in passing through the agonies
of death and the joys of resurrection with all of plant life in the
natural order, so)

We need only remind the reader that Siva, like Dionysos, was closely
identified with all sorts of vegetation — trees, vines, plants, flowers,
forests and groves. In the Satarudrlya it is said of him that he, "Haunts
the hills and is closely related to trees on which he deposits his weapons
when he lays aside” (TS. IV. 5.10.4). Herman Oldenberg 81 ) finds a
similarity between Rudra and such figures as mountain and wood
deamons, sprites like Mars Silvanus, the Fauni, etc. He is the 'bull of
heaven’ whose fertilizing rains (i.e. male semen) fecundate the female
earth. It is clear that this broad extension of Rudra’s power is due to
a deliberate tendency to see in him a god with a comprehensive control
over nature and as the vital energies in all living things. 82 ), 83 )

78) Harrison, Ibid., p. 426.

79) Farnell, Ibid., V, 123-25; Otto., Ibid., Chaps. 13 and 14.

80) Harrison, Ibid., 388 ff.; Otto. Ibid., 171 ff.

81) Religion des Veda (3rd ed.) Berlin, 1923, pp. 215-24.

82) Keith, ibid., p. 145.

83) We may have a somewhat surprising link with fertility in Rudra’s posses¬
sion of a blue neck as Nllagriva or Nilakantha. While I have yet to find mention
of this specific fact in the ancient texts, Rudra-Siva’s dark neck may be derived

Siva and Dionysos

203

Although Rudra's properties of fertility and life are removed from
their more ‘naturalistic' expressions and are given a more philosophical
status in the Upanisads, he remains, for all that, the god who gives
birth to and sustains all living things. 84 ) He is calles “Bhava” (a
derivative \Jbhu =coming into existence, birth, production, origina¬
tion). As was the case with most other Hindu divinities in the later
literature, Siva came to be identified with Prajapati, ‘lord of creatures'
(who created the universe by means of a cosmic sacrifice) and with
Mahapurusa (primeval man from whose body the world was made).
He came to embody both male and female elements of procreation, in
either one of two modes of appearance. First, as Siva-Sakti, he appears
only as a male support of the female power of fecundation. Second, as
Ardhanarisvara, half male and half female, he symbolized both duality
and unity of the generative act and the production of the universe for
the union of two principles (Prakriti and Parusa, Maya and Braham).
This coalescence of the male and female principles was further
represented in his appearance in South India as Nataraja, Lord of the
Dance. He wears on his ears two earrings ( Kundalini ), one of them an
elongated female earring and the other a circular male earring. Here
we have the merging of opposites in a single personage, self-subsistent
and self-generative.

The emblem under which he particularly delights to be worshipped

in this androgynous manifestation is the lingam or phallus, which is

always erect. The lingam and the female sex organ ( yoni ) represent

the totality of his nature and the totality of all created existence. The
- —■ — ■■

in part from his early association with the peacock (who is blue-necked) and the
monsoon rains. Not only is Rudra the traditional lord of monsoons in the Vedic
literature, but he is consistently seen by Kalidasa in his lyric poem Meghadiita
as presiding over various storm phenomena. Furthermore, it may have been from
his father Rudra-Siva that Kumara-Skanda received his association with the
peacock as a vehicle. In any case, since Rudra traditionally made his power and
presence most forcefully felt in the monsoons and since the peacock, which
delights to prance about and cry at the first sign of rains, is considered to be the
harbinger of the monsoons, then Siva may have obtained his blue throat by
association with the peacock. (I am indebted to Professor J. A. B. van Buitenen
of the University of Chicago for this suggestion).

84) In the Svetasvatara, remarkable for its spirit of personal theism, Rudra
is extolled as “the One... only, they do not allow a second, who rules the worlds
by his powers.” He is creator and destroyer of the cosmos, who is Isa, the Lord,
hidden in all things and embracing all thing. “He who knows Him (Rudra) to be
Brahman, becomes immortal”. (III.&)

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vast created universe is the fruit of the creative of Siva in embrace with
his consort, Parvati. (MBh. XIII. 14.212; 14.227; 14.289; 14.304).
So powerful an embodiment of the surging energies of life was this
phallic aspect of Siva, that it was believed to have the capacity either
to create or annihilate the cosmos, depending on how it was utilized.

G. Parallels in the Structure of the Rituals

If we grant that the devotees of a god usually imitate the actions
of the god in some way, we may judge that a knowledge of the rituals
dedicated to Siva and Dionysos may be gathered from a study of their
characters. We should not therefore be surprised to discover many
strange and 'aberrant' ritual activities dedicated to both gods, given
their ferocious and ambivalent natures. From the literature of both
traditions we learn that the cultic acts dedicated to them included
singing, dancing, drumming, fluting, drinking wine and perhaps even
ritual intercourse, cannibalism and human sacrifice. 85 ) Such rites were
performed among the hill tribes in ancient Greece and Were still
performed by such tribes in India even into the last century. 86 ), 87 )

M. Eliade 88 ) has shown decisively that orgiastic rites were performed
by two Saivite subsects in ancient and medieval times in India. The
Aghoris (lit. "not terrific ,, ) worship Siva as Smasanavasin ("dweller
in the crematoria") by imitating the actions of their Lord. They gird
themselves with animal skins and a necklace of human skulls, smear
their bodies with the ashes of the dead, dance wildly through the
burning grounds shouting the syllable OM with thunderous voices (cf.
Dionysos as ppo[jiio<; below) and perform ritual cannibalism upon the
corpses waiting to be cremated. Such revels were, no doubt held at
night, as were those of Dionysos, for Siva is addressed as nisa-carah
("Night-walker"). The sounds of their voices is compared with the roar
of the drum, the clap of thunder and the bellow of the bull. The other
subsect, called the Kapalikas ("those of the skull") venerated Siva

85) R. G. Bhandarkar, Vaifnavism, Saivism and Minor Religious Systems.
Varanasi: Indological Book House, 1965, pp. ii2ff; Otto, Ibid., p. 113.

86) J. Campbell, Oriental Mythology. New York: Viking Press, 1962, pp. 5-6.

87) In the MBh. (Sabhaparvan, chaps, xiv-xv, xxii) King Jarasandha desiring
to win sovereignty over all the K$atryas, sacrificed 100 princes to Rudra-Siva and
incurred Krona’s wrath for this bloody deed.

88) Yoga: Immortality and Freedom. (Translated from the French by Willard
R. Trask, New York) Pantheon Books, 1958, pp. 296 ff.

Siva and Dionysos

205

as Mahdkdla (“Time the Great Destroyer”) and as Kapdlabhrt (“he
who bears the skull”). They also participate in orgiastices rites and
carry ritual cruelty to the extreme. Both sects were much in evidence
from the 6th century on as proved by references to them by the Chinese
traveler Hiuen Tsiang (ca. A.D. 630-645). 89 )

In the lyric poem Meghaduta by Kalidasa, 90 ) the cloud who is
carrying word of encouragement from an exiled Yaksa (fertility
daemon) to his forlorn mate at home, is asked to serve as “praise¬
worthy drum at the evening worship of Siva” (34). The poet says,
“Thereby thou shalt attain perfect reward of thy deep rumbling
thunder”. The correlation between the Saivite and the Dionysiac cults
is no more certain than at this point—noctural rites, the use of drums
and dancing. Again the poet says, “When the dance begins, supply
Siva’s need for the bloody elephant’s skin,” (36) (referring to Siva’s
act of first killing the elephant demon which threatened to destroy the
lives of his followers and then dancing in his skin while warm and wet)
and “If thy thunder should rumble in glens as on a drum, Surely there
thy music would be meet for the symphony of Siva.” (56)

That the ultimate goal of the Dionysiac mysteries was union with the
god himself cannot be doubted. The Maenads (lit. 'mad women’) who
formed his 0tacro<; were often summoned suddenly and without warning
by the haunting call of the god’s voice, by mysterious sounds of flutes,
drums and cymbals and by the light of flaming torches fled into the
darkness of the woods to “dance the dance of god”. The roar of
Dionysos—at once, frightening and enticing—is likened to the sound
of the drum, the roar of thunder and the bellow of the bull. His name
Bromios 91 ) (from Ppspico 'to make a confused sound’) makes him
'the God of a loud cry’ (Pindar, frag. 45). In some texts he is con¬
nected with the thunder (PpovT-yj) and in The Bacchae he is said to be
'thunder-born’, 'a god of mysterious voices’, and connected with strange
orgiastic music which he brought with him from the Northern hills. 92 )

89) Eliade quotes extensively from a 17th century Persian work by Muh$in-i-
Fani entitled Dabistdn which provides graphic descriptions of such rites at that
time. See Yoga , p. 299 f.

90) Translated from the Sanscrit by Franklin Edgerton. Ann Arbor: Univer¬
sity of Michigan Press, 1964.

91) Otto, Ibid., pp. 93, 133.

92) Harrison, Ibid., 413 ff.

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The dancers used the 'bull-voiced mimes’ in imitation of the voice of
their lord.

The female worshippers go clad in the usual attire (axeu yj) of
Dionysos. Over their regular cloaks, they fling the skin of a newly
slain animal (usually a fawn or goat), loosen the locks of their hair,
bind their heads with the headband of a serpent and carry in their hand
any one of a number of instruments associated with the cultus—a slain
fawn or tiger, the thyrsus-staff, a bowl of wine or a serpent. They
take on the look of the wild things they have become.

Dionysos is always surrounded by these maddened women who are
his nurses and loved ones. They combine in themselves (as does their
Lord), both the loftiest and the basest qualities of womankind.
They are, on the one hand, nurses and mothers, sweethearts and consorts
of the god. They nursed him when he was orphaned from Zeus, just as
they gave suck from their breasts to the young animals of the forest.
But the beastiality which lies in every woman is quickened in the
Meanads as their minds are seized and carried away by the god. In this
state of superhuman passion, they cavorted without restraint with the
god in the woods, chasing down, tearing to pieces and eating raw the
flesh of these same animals which they previously had nursed. This
ogress-character of women is no more dramatically and pagnantly
expressed than in The Bacchae where Agave, in the heat of drunken
exaltation, slaughters and decapitates her own son, King Pentheus, all
the while believing him to be a lion cub.

These are other ways of becoming ‘entheos’ than by drinking wine.
The other way of the Bacchae was the ‘oreibasia’ or mountain dancing
described in the lacuna portion (between n. 1129-30) of The Bacchae.
This was a celebration performed by women’s societies at Delphi which
took place in mid-winter in alternate years. 93 ) In many societies the
dance provides a religious experience which is not possible by any other
means than by use of their bodies. The dance gave them the sense that
they were possessed by an alien personality and that their own minds
and bodies were nothing but a vehicle for the actions of that divine or
daemonic spirit. The ‘oreibasia’ or mountain dancing described in The
Bacchae depicts "hysteria subdued to the service of religion”.

One final thing that strikes us about the cults of Siva and Dionysos

93) Bacchae , 133.

Siva and Dionysos

207

is their democratic attitude toward the admittance of devotees. These
cults represent a departure from the customs of the established, hier¬
archical cults (Brahmanical and Olympian) of restricting membership
to the social or religious elite. They were accessible to all who sought
to serve them, not through intermediaries but directly and powerfully in
the gifts of song and dance and through membership in the religious
communiy. E. R. Dodds' 94 ) suggestion that Dionysos’ cult may have
appealed originally to those who were denied the right to full membership
in the socio-religious community because of low birth and status and
were hence excluded from the cults associated with the religious ‘estab-
lisment, may also be true of the cult of Siva. It is well known that
such Saiva cults such as the Kapalikas, Aghoris and Lingayats gathered
vast numbers of the 'disenfranchised’ during the Indian middle ages
(ca. 7th~9th centuries). An ode in praise of Dionysos in The Bacchae
expresses beautifully the impartiality of both cults:

The deity... loves the goddess Peace, generous of good, preserver of the
young. To rich and poor he gives the simple gift of wine, the gladness of the
grape. But him who scoffs he hates, and him who mocks his life, the happiness
of those for whom the day is blessed but doubly blessed the night; whose simple
wisdom shuns the thoughts of proud, uncommon men and all their god-
encroaching dreams. But what the common people do, the things that simple
men believe, I too believe and do. [emphasis added] 96 )

There is evidence in Aristophanes’ The Frogs 96 ) that his cult enjoyed
widespread popularity in the Classical Age and for later periods we
have inscriptional evidence that even slaves might be admitted to mem¬
bership in Dionysos’ Otaao^. 97 ) In a word, Siva and Dionysos dispense
their grace to all who were willing to receive it and to confess them as
Lord.

III. CoiNCIDENTIA OPPOSITORUM IN SlVA AND DlONYSOS

What Siva and Dionysos mean to suffering mortality is the sudden
and direct eruption of Divinity in the miracle of blessing and damnation.
Both gods are ambivalent and unpredictable in their actions in the world
and in their responses to devotees. Now they appear as benevolent

94) Dodds, Ibid., notes to lines 421-23.

95) lines 416 ff.

96) lines 405 ff.

97) Cited in Dodds, Ibid., p. 121.

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liberators from bondage to the limitations of bodily existence and from
finitude itself, then as terrifying daemons who, once they have possessed
the soul of a person, threaten to destroy natural life itself.

As we discovered earlier, what appears in the Vedic Rudra as a mere
ambivalence of character, becomes in the Epic and Puranic Siva a
coincidence of opposites. In the early period, Rudra’s wrathfulness and
impetuosity seems at times to overshadow his benevolence and gracious¬
ness. So irascible is he that even the prayers and offerings of his wor¬
shippers were thought to provoke his anger if not properly performed.
He is at once god of disease and misfortune and the divine physician
whose medicines heal all infirmities. He even presents a paternal aspect
to his devotees as they bow before him “as a boy bows to his father
as he blesses him”. 98 ) Once this deity comes to be called Siva in the
Epics, he retains this ambivalent and multifarious nature and expresses
the contraries of raw impetuosity and unpredictable wrathfulness
together with his boundless benevolence to a more radical degree. He
both terrifies and fascinates. He is at once, a Divine Warrior and the
Master of Yogins. He encorporates in his person the essence of male
and female potency. He is both finite time as destroyer of all things and
Eternity as the destroyer of time. As Hari-Hara, he is Creator and
Destroyer, the embodiment of the duality and the unity of the entire
cosmic process.

Of Dionysos, one commentator says, “The mysterious Stranger is not
simply an idealized being from outside man's world; he is Dionysos, the
embodiment of those tragic contradictions—joy and horror, insight and
madness, innocent gaiety and dark cruelty—which are implicit in all
religions of the Dionysiae type. From the standpoint of human morality,
he is and must be an ambiguous figure.” ") Plutarch, in his life of
Antony, reminds us of this when he speaks of Antony's entrance into
Ephesus as the new Dionysos who is acclaimed by many as if he were
Dionysos, “the friendly god who lavishes blessings” (xaptSoTT)^ xat,
even though he was for most “the bestial and wild one”
(<*)p 7 )aTY)<; xal aypiamo^). As Otto notes, even the animals who accom¬
pany him and in whose form he often becomes incarnate stand in sharp
contrast to one another—the bull, goat and ass symbolizing “fertility and

98) RV II. 33.12.

99) Dodds, Ibid., xiv.

Siva and Dionysos

209

sexual desire”, on the one side; the lion, panther and bull representing
“the most bloodthirsty desire to kill”, on the other. 10 °)

His ambivalence is projected into the thyrsos which he and his
worshippers carry; it produces milk and honey for the devotee and a
sword for the enemy. As one scholar remarks, he is “the incarnate life-
force itself”. 101 ) As such he is not subject to the laws of morality but
like Moira and the Fates, simply exists as inevitable and unalterable.
When Cadmus complains that Dionysos’ sentence of exile is too harsh,
Dionysos replies, “I am god. I was blasphemed by you ... Long ago my
father ordained these things.” 102 )

What exactly Siva and Dionysos were to their devotees by should be

clear: they were the incarnation of elan vital itself, the uncontrollable,

chaotic eruption of raw force from the bowels of nature, capable of

creating or destroying, liberating or damning. As such, they are amoral

or transmoral, free from conventional distinctions between good and

evil, right and wrong. They are awe-inspiring embodiments of necessity

itself ( dharma in India, moira in Greece), capable of blessing those who

worship them and of utterly destroying, physically or psychologically,

those who deny them. “For divinity divested of morality becomes

daemonic (not devilish but the reality of awful, inscrutable, careless

power),” 103 ) The wisdom ( prajna in India, sophia in Greece) which

comes from union with or worship of these divinities is such that the

devotee experiences that coalescence of joy and sorrow, blessing and

damnation, exaltation and terror which is the nature of life itself.

— . — '

100) Otto, Ibid., pp. iio-ii.

101) Arrowsmith, Ibid., p. 537.

102) lines 1345-49.

103) Arrowsmith, “Introduction”, p. 537 .

Numen XVIII

ON THE NATURE OF THE DEMONIC:
AFRICAN WITCHERY

EVAN M. ZUESSE

Meadville, Pennsylvania

I. INTRODUCTION

The problem of witchcraft has been generally treated as peripheral
to the phenomenological study of religion. Indeed, it has often been
explicitly excluded from serious consideration as mere “magic” without
genuine “expressive” content. It is one aim of this essay to demon¬
strate the “expressiveness” of witchcraft practices, and to show that
they not only are directly related to the essential realities of the religious
life, but that they disclose new meanings and aspects in those realities.

At the same time, I think;, one cannot help but misunderstand witch¬
craft if one applies to it traditional phenomenological methods and
categories. It is not merely a matter of the inanity of the intellectualistic
term “magic”, which so effectively separates knowing from doing. It
is a part of phenomenological method itself to locate the unitary
“essence” behind all historical appearances of a phenomenon. This in
itself is valuable, and this essay will attempt much the same thing, but
it has not been sufficiently understood how easily this approach tempts
the researcher to ignore actual cognitive contexts, and to separate
insight from action, “religion” from life. The result has been that the
researcher is quick to disregard the unique contexts shaping and de¬
termining such a phenomenon as witchcraft in order to assimilate it to
some other more “spiritual” or congenial “essence” as its perversion,
degeneration, or meaningless “application”. The whole problem of
“survivals” has not yet been adequately dealt with in the research into
the history of religions, due to this manner of understanding essence.

The same basic structures can express many “essential meanings”:
this does not mean that only one of them is “the true one” and the
others are “degenerations”; each must be understood on its own terms
from within the particular structure or patterned meaning it creates or
sustains. Witchcraft can be shown, for example, to possess structures

On the nature of the demonic: African witchery

211

relating closely to the most archaic hunting-and-gathering religions
known to us, and again to such explicitly religious phenomena as divina¬
tion or ancestor reverence. Yet these essential contributory structures do
not “degenerate” into witchery or lose meaning, but take on quite dif¬
ferent and profound meanings in their new context. The context deter¬
mines meaning, and it may be the context is so meaningful, so well
understood, it needs no consciously philosophic or “spiritual” indigenous
interpretations. This is the case with witchcraft, which integrates such
intimately experienced realities as sexuality and ingestion, bodily
exuviae and human social existence, into a meditation on ultimate
matters concerning Self and Other, freedom and evil, and the limits
of the human condition.

All this is likewise so basic to us that we, too, ignore it while
reactualizing it constantly. Witchcraft ideologies have deeply affected
the West. It has been estimated that over one million “witches”, most
of them women, were killed between 1500 and 1700, the vast majority
in Germanic lands, using methods quite similar to those adopted by
the Third Reich against the Jews and Gypsies. *) Country and moun¬
tain folk in the U.S. and Europe still cling to witchery practices, and
various youth cults in America center on a Romanticized “witch¬
craft”. But the most penetrating studies of witchery have been done
in Africa, to which this study turns.

II. AFRICAN WITCHERY
A. Functionalistic Interpretations

There are many African societies in which witchcraft, or witchery ,
a word I use to include both sorcery and witchcraft, 1 2 ) is practically
non-existant or quite unimportant. There are many others where such
ideas have profound consequences.

Most of those who have studied witchery in Africa are British

1) Cf. Adolph Leschnitzer, The Magic Background of Anti-Semitism (N. Y.:
International Universities Press, 1956).

2) The distinction between sorcery and witchcraft first made by E. E. Evans-
Pritchard merely for the Azande in his Witchcraft, Oracles and Magic among the
Azande (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1937), was extended into a dogma by later
social anthropologists, but is now admitted to be inapplicable in many cases. See,
for example, Victor Turner, The Forest, of Symbols: Aspects of Ndembu Ritual
(Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1967), pp. 118-24.

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Evan M. Zuesse

social anthropologists, and their interpretations have tended to explain
such differences between various cultures through sociological factors.
A by now traditional axiom of this school is that if a given trait exists
in a society, it must serve a useful purpose, even if not evident to
those who assign “manifest” meanings to it within the culture. The
social function of a cultural trait is even its real “latent” meaning.
Following this line of reasoning, many anthropologists have devoted
considerable ingenuity to proving the social excellence of witchcraft
and sorcery beliefs, where they appear. As the American anthropologist,
Anthony F. C. Wallace has stressed in his recent work, Religion:
An Anthropological View (N.Y.: Knopf, 1966): “...the practise of
witchcraft, and the fear of it, tend to curb precisely those trespasses
which the social structure fails to prevent.” 3 ) Working with such
theories, these researchers have agreed that witchcraft accusations
reflect social tensions and probably increase with progressive accultura¬
tion (this link has not been irrefutably demonstrated), and that they
are basically positive attempts to deal with such tensions when no
other approved methods are available. 4 ) This last assertion is, how¬
ever, problematic and paradoxical, if not self-contradictory. If one
thing is .certain about witchcraft beliefs, it is that it encourages hatreds,

3) Op. cit., pp. 196 f. This view coincides remarkably with Wallace’s view of
religion in general, as a method of overcoming gaps in the social structure, or
tying up the loose ends of logic and behavior left dangling by the social process.
From this viewpoint there is little to choose between worship and witchery. Wal¬
lace’s view is clearly inadequately elucidated, though we too shall argue for a
similarity and even identity between witchery beliefs and religious ones.

4) For an extensive bibliography (which if presented here would too great!}'
expand these footnotes), cf. ibid., pp. 196 ff. and the references there; also see a
similar discussion with references and bibliography in the excellent “Introduction”
by John Middleton and E. H. Winter to the important volume edited by them,
Witchcraft and Sorcery in East Africa (N.Y. and London: Oxford University
Press for the International African Institute, 1963), pp. '1-26 (hereinafter this
work will be referred to as Witchcraft and Sorcery) ; the thorough discussion of
the literature by M. G. Marwick in his article, “The Social Context of Cewa
Witch Beliefs,” Africa, XXII (1952), esp. pp. 120-30, and the annotated bibli¬
ography at the back of his Sorcery in Its Social Setting (Manchester: Manchester
University Press, 1965), pp. 305-20. For a statistical “scientific” approach to the
subject, see also Guy E. Swanson, The Birth of the Gods: The Origins of
Primitive Beliefs (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, i960), pp. 137-52,
a work not mentioned in the above discussions. See also the critical review of
the material on witchcraft and the theories by Edward Norbeck, Religion in
Primitive Society (New York and Evanston: Free Press, 1961), pp. 188-212 and
elsewhere. Also see Lucy Mair, Witchcraft (N.Y.: McGraw-Hill Book Co., 1969).

On the nature of the demonic: African witchery

213

spreads suspicions and divisiveness, often culminates in murder of
suspected witches and even of widespread purges, frequently brings
social process to a total halt, a paralysis of fear and terror, and often
results in the splitting off of large groups in an atmosphere of
enmity. 5 ) We may wonder whether or not, in fact, the functionistic
method in general is not subjected to a reductio ad absurdum here, a
product of a fanatical insistence that whatever occurs in society, and
thus is a social fact, is by that same facticity at base merely social,
and so necessarily positively functional. Therefore we find the asser¬
tion that sorcery suspicions in some societies “help break up” family
groups or villages or clans because these groups had become “dysfunc¬
tional”: they must have been too dense, too competitive, or what not.
But this can win our assent only if we refuse to beg the obvious
question: “Why dysfunctional?: is density as such, or competition,
always to be found as a social evil, or is not in fact the lack of func¬
tionality merely presumed by the presence of divisive witchcraft ?” Nor
is it proven by the functionalists that witchcraft is really the only or
the necessary method for expressing and resolving social strains, that
other less terrifying methods were not available to the collective imagina¬
tion of the culture if it had looked for them. There is something of
Dr. Pangloss’ “Whatever is, is right” in such assertions. The root of
witchcraft beliefs cannot be merely social, nor merely for the benefit
of society, but lie at a deeper, spiritual level.

5) Accounts of periodic witch-purges which grip entire cultures and bring all
work to a halt have been recorded from all parts of Africa, and such movements,
which often revealed in the colonial period definite anti-Western elements, have
received the general name of “witch-finding movements”; for some representa¬
tive articles specifically on such cults, see Aubrey I. Richards, “A Modern Move¬
ment of Witch-Finders,” Africa, VIII (1935), 448-61; M. G. Marwick, “Another
Anti-Witchcraft Movement in East Central Africa,” Africa, XX (1950), 100-12;
P. Morton-Williams, “The Atinga Cult among the South-Western Yoruba: A
Sociological Analysis of a Witch-Finding Movement,” Inst. Frangais Afri. Noire,
Bull., Series B (1956), 315-34; Barbara E. Ward, “Some Observations on Religious
Cults in Ashanti,” Africa, XXVI (1956), 47-61; Paul Bohannon, “Extra-Proces
sual Events in Tiv Political Institutions,” in Cultures and Societies in Africa,
ed. Simon and Phoebe Ottenberg (N.Y.: Random House, i960), 328-41; and the
stimulating cultic approach of Mary Douglas, showing that witch-finding move¬
ments had a periodicity and a cultic importance going back to pre-colonial times
that proves them to be traditional, in her essay, “Techniques of Sorcery Control
in Central Africa,” in Witchcraft and Sorcery, op. cit., pp. 123-141, and her
analysis, “Witch Beliefs in Central Africa,” Africa, XXXVII# 1 (Jan. 1967),
72-80.

214

Evan M. Znesse

One thing, for example, that is notable about witchery beliefs is
that they often represent severe but submerged, and even if one likes
subconsciously projected, criticisms of the society in which they appear.
The anthropological studies themselves often demonstrate this. For
example, Monica Wilson has shown that amongst the Pondo of Zambia,
where family groups cluster in exclusive territories and so make the
incest taboo and the exogamous norm strongly conscious inhibitions,
witches are conceived of especially as persons indulging in incestuous
relations, often with their animal familiars who are their alter egos
of the opposite sex: this classifies their incest as synonymous with
sexual bestiality. On the other hand, Wilson shows that among the not
far distant Nyakyusa of Malawi, where exogamy is not such a heavy
burden since village life is highly heterogenous, and rich and poor
clans live in close proximity, witches tend rather to be conceived of in
terms of miserliness: they are individuals so greedy for their own
produce, milk and meat (especially human meat or flesh), that their
lust for flesh drives them to feast cannibalistically on relatives and
neighbors. Despite wealth differentiation, it is a Nyakyusa norm to
invite neighbors to feasts. Yet neighbors are not kinsmen, and often
are excluded from each other's meals. This social irresponsibility and
the very fact of mysterious differences in wealth are rationalized in
witch ideology. 6 ) In other words, the pan-African conception of
witches as incestuous and cannibalistic beings receives varying emphases
in particular societies in accordance with the strains within each.

The sex image of witches may be similarly understood, according
to another British social anthropologist, S. F. Nadel. In an essay
entitled “Witchcraft in Four African Societies: An Essay in Compar¬
ison,” 7 ) Nadel followed up Wilson’s article by demonstrating that
the sex most commonly associated with witches in the societies he
studied reflected sexual tensions felt by them: among the Gwari,
where marriages were harmonious, witches could be of either sex, but
among the Nupe, a Nigerian people otherwise culturally similar, women
were independent of the men, and male resentment and helplessness
expressed itself in emphasis on female witches. Useful and interesting

6) “Witch Beliefs and Social Structure,” American Journal of Sociology, LVI
(1951), 307-13.

7) In Cultures and Societies in Africa, op. cit., pp. 407-20.

On the nature of the demonic: African witchery

215

as such conclusions may be, however, the very sociological emphasis
given these constructs limits their insightfulness, as I shall attempt
to show later in dealing with the sexual image of witches. One is
always left, after reading such studies, with the nagging question of
what has been left out. 8 )

But it cannot be denied that witchery beliefs do in some manner
become involved with conflicts implicit in given social systems, if
only because such conflict-oriented beliefs involving real people
necessarily have social consequences. But witchery, too, involves the
divine order which is the pattern of life, the web of norms and actions
that go together to constitute the way of life handed down from the
Creation. 9 ) Approaching witchery from the perspective of the divine
order, as a religious not magical apprehension of man's position in the
cosmos, discloses an internal logic to witchcraft and sorcery beliefs
not accessible to a functionalistic analysis.

8) For example, Nadel relates the economically independent and dominating
position of Nupe women in the market-place directly to their being charged often
with witch activities. But it is possible to assert that it is not the power of the women
vis-a-vis the men which is at issue here, but the symbolically ambivalent signifi¬
cance of trading and market-places in West Africa and beyond. The market-place
is cosmologically a dangerous point where incompletely controlled alien forces
penetrate our society, our divine order: it is a center for transactions par excel¬
lence, but where we may well be victimized by aliens and our very substance
cheated from us. We may be hypnotized by a smiling stranger into utter failure.
Witches and demonic beings are often believed in West Africa to haunt market¬
places, or to have compact with the strangers who come there (cf. Geoffrey Par-
rinder’s remarks concerning the Ibadan, Nigeria market plaza in Witchcraft:
European and African (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1963), p. 195). This attitude
throws a revealing light on the slaughters of the Ibo tradesmen throughout
Nigeria but especially in the Hausa north in 1967, and which helped drive the
Ibos into proclaiming themselves independent; the ferocity of the war with Biafra
can only be understood in such a light. But such conceptions should least of all
surprise Westerners: the medieval stereotype of Jews as usurers, the witches of
the market-place, was fed by the fact that in economically backward Europe, the
Jews were the most prominent and even the only traders in many places. Such
suspicions led to all too recurrent bloody massacres, and, to judge from Nazi
stereotypes of ‘wealthy Jewish financiers/ profoundly influenced modern history.
The slaughter of the Chinese in Indonesia had similar roots, for there the Chinese
were not only the main tradesmen in the area, but were hated for it by many.

9) I am indebted to Hans Scharer’s penetrating applications of the concept of
the “Divine Order” in Ngaju Religion: The Conception of God among a South
Borneo People (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1963), for much of my own
understanding of the concept, though modified and deepened through contact with
the thought of Mircea Eliade.

216

Evan M. Zuesse

B. Religious Homologies: Shamanism

There are a number of important similarities between the funda¬
mental structures of witchery symbolisms and clearly religious struc¬
tures and rituals among hunting-and-gathering cultures, for example.
The symbolisms of shamanic flight, to give one instance, are constantly
predicated of witches: they can leave their hut or house at night and
fly through the sky magically, or even transform themselves into owls
or other carrion birds and sail through the night swiftly, silently and
with evil intent to their assemblies far out in the dark bush, on some
secluded mountain top, or in a deserted grave-yard. Such symbolisms,
so familiar to us, are widespread in Africa, too; they are indeed
world-wide, indicating a pervasive necessity for such structures. Every¬
where we find witches linked with the wild and the dark “outside”
world, though resident amongst us in the human form, outwardly a
member of human society. Witches, with their animal familiars (like¬
wise practically a pan-African conception), have peculiar links with
the animal realm. The Temne of Sierra Leone link together the witch’s
familiarity with the forest realm and with animals, the witch’s ability
to assume many shapes (just as shamans are often reputed to do),
and the demonic character of witchery: they say bush demons cooperate
with witches in their mutual hatred of and hunt for human beings, and
that at the moment of bewitching the witches’ faces turn into those of
animals. 10 ) Like shamans, the witch everywhere can wield the power
of invisibility, and only the special eyesight of the “witch-doctor” can
see such a witch, or detect a witch-person in the day-time in a crowd.
The witch is often believed to be specially immune to heat, indeed the
witch’s element is fire, and he can often be seen at night in the bush
as a ball of fire floating through the air. Contrast all this with the
typical attributes of shamans: according to Eliade,

Because of his ability to leave his body with impunity, the shaman can, if he
so wishes, act in the manner of a spirit; e.g., he flies through the air, he
becomes invisible, he perceives things at great distances, he mounts to Heaven
or descends to Hell, sees souls and can capture them, and is incombustible. X1 )

10) James Littlejohn, “The Temne House,” in Myth and Cosmos: Readings
in Mythology and Symbolism , ed. John Middleton (Garden City, N.Y.: The
Natural History Press, 1967. p. 338.

11) Rites and Symbols of Initiation: Birth and Rebirth (N.Y.: Harper and Row,
1958 ), p. 95 -

On the nature of the demonic: African witchery

2 IJ

The shaman is distinguished by his closeness and familiarity with the
animals (he knows their languages and can talk with them, etc.; can
assume their shape and generally has animal familiars or alter egos);
from this comes his control over hunting. The shaman too is “hot”
and can even handle burning coals. His initiation takes place often in
the bush, far removed from human society, where he attains unity
with the non-human sources of reality. He thus becomes a member
of a larger shamanic society which sometimes mysteriously convenes
far away; the gathering of shamans in a village is an awesome and
frightening thing for those who live there. The initiation of a shaman
may involve his being torn apart or eaten alive by divine beings, or
by ancestral shaman spirits, and thus assimilated to the divine and to
the shamanic circle. 12 ) In witches’ circles, we may see the memory
of this, and its inversion, through the dismemberment or slow devouring
of the victim’s body by the witches; a novice witch must often provide
the victim for this initiation from among his own kinsmen, his own
“flesh”. Through this feast he joins the witch society.

That there is a strange similarity between witches as commonly
imaged and shamans, may be accepted, but what is the meaning of this ?
In the passage cited just above, Eliade goes on to isolate the essential
motivation of the shaman, which determines all his modalities and
symbolic powers:

They all express a break with the universe of daily life. The twofold purpose
of this break is obvious: it is the transcendence and the freedom that are
obtained, for example, through ascent, flight, invisibility, incombustibility of
the body.... The desire for absolute freedom—that is, the desire to break
the bonds that keep him tied to earth, and to free himself from his limita¬
tions—is one of man’s essential nostalgias. And the break from plane to plane
effected by flight or ascent similarly signifies an act of transcendence; flight
proves that one has transcended the human condition, has risen above it,
by transmuting it through an excess of spirituality. 13 )

We may anticipate ourselves by saying that it is the demonic and
negative aspect of this nostalgia for absolute freedom that witchery
is the meditation on. The full significance of this will be suggested
later, in our concluding remarks. But it is already clear that witchery
symbolism embraces a deep-rooted desire to achieve the status of the

12) See the full discussion by Eliade in his Shamanism: Archaic Techniques of
Ecstasy (Bollingen Series LXXVI; N.Y. Pantheon Books, 1964).

13) Op. cit ., p. 101.

2 l8

Evan M. Zuesse

Other which confines man, limits him and masters him. The witch
is one with that threatening Other, in the popular conception. If the
shaman represents the Otherness which infiltrates humanity in its
benevolent aspect, the witch represents Otherness in its resolutely anti¬
human mode, despite its penetration of the human cosmos. The problem
of freedom involves a dialectic between the personal will and the
cosmic order which, in witchery, realizes mankind’s worst nightmares.

C. Religious Homologies: Divination
That witchery belongs to that same Other that presents shamanism
as a possibility is proven by the genetic similarity of their symbolic
structures. The same can be shown for the relationship between divina¬
tion and witchery. There is relatively little shamanism in Africa in the
classic forms defined by Siberian, Amerind and Australian religions.
This is doubtless at least partly due to the prevalence of agricultural
religions and cultures all over the African continent; the shamanic
structure which achieves its full form only in hunting cultures is
refracted into various priestly and mediumistic specialties in agricul¬
tural religions; witchery, which is relatively little developed as a specific
form in the most archaic hunting-and-gathering societies but which is
often pronounced among agricultural peoples, is no doubt one of these
refractions, as we have seen. Divination is another, and is widely
spread in Africa and is even brought to extremely philosophical heights
in many societies. Like witchery, divination involves a dialectic between
personal will and the cosmic order. In a brief formulation, divination
resolves a crisis in the divine order by submitting the personal will
to the cosmic ordained pattern, i.e., by discovering Destiny. This
discovery of Destiny is not a merely passive process, but a creative
one, in which one actively changes one’s lot in life by conforming itl
to the divine order: divination allows one to experience anew one’s
inclusion in a larger process which sustains the whole of the universe.
Events which before seemed disintegrative, meaningless and random
are now disclosed as meaningful, the result of a hidden and now
revealed Demand being made on one, and so even part of a healing
process when the remedies of divination are applied. Witchery, on
the other hand, is a response to crisis which retreats from any Demand
hidden in the divine order, into personal desires, and which refuses
to rejoin the flux and reciprocity controlling the cosmos. Divination is

On the nature of the demonic: African witchery

219

practically universally brought to a close with a sacrifice from the client,
in which he reestablishes harmonious contact with the powers which
are now known to govern his life or this moment in it. 14 ) Witchery,
however, centers on a sacrifice in which the client (that is, the witch,
who like the divinatory client is seeking redress for “bad fate”)
immolates, so to speak, his enemy, while giving up nothing of himself.
Witchery pulls away from the ongoing change and mutuality of things,
and insists on the necessity of personal will and passion. Only on its
own terms will it relate to the divine order.

Yet one of the striking things about divination is the frequency with
which it is connected with witchery in many cultures. Both procedures
involve the same dialectic; divination gone wrong can easily become
witchcraft. Often the diviner is suspected of being a witch by his
clients, and this is even one of the reasons that they come to him:
if he knows how to curse powerfully, he must also know how to lift the
curse of others; he who can harm can also heal. The same powers are
involved in both the diviner’s and the witch’s art. One sees this often
in African cultures. The Mbugwe of Tanzania, for example, have over
each of their sub-tribes a rain-chief, who is both political leader and
spiritual intermediary and diviner for his people. By the power innate
in him, as well as by learned skills, he causes the rain to fall on the
fields of his people, but by the same token deprives rival groups of the
heaven-sent waters. The rain-chiefs compete each year for the rains.
By his own group the rain-chief is regarded as a beneficent and
powerful diviner and “witch-doctor”; by other groups he is thought
to be a sorcerer, or witch. 15 ) Similarly, as Robert LeVine remarks,
for the Gusii of southern-western Kenya

The diviner groups seems to be a socially accepted version of the witch
group, or, conversely stated, the conspiratorial witch group may represent
a deviant dangerous and perhaps fantastic version of the actually functioning
group of diviners. 16 )

14) So intimately linked is divination with the act of sacrifice that often sacrifice
is the whole of the divinatory session: from the entrails of the victim, the cracks
in its heated bones, or even the manner of its staggering and fall, the verdict of
Destiny and the Divine is “read”.

15) Robert F. Gray, “Some Structural Aspects of Mbugwe Witchcraft,” in
Witchcraft and Sorcery, op. cit., pp. 143 f., 146, 154 f., 170.

16) “Witchcraft and Sorcery in a Gusii Community,” in ibid., pp. 232 f.

220

Evan M. Zuesse

Among the Gusii, however, diviners were not themselves considered
witches. A closer and even more striking rapproachment is evident
among the Azande, where occasionally one finds diviners (or “witch¬
doctors”) who are commonly regarded as witches, and thus credited
with even more power to effect cures; Azande whisper that certain
diviners may act in collusion with witches 17 ). There are many reasons
the Azande might have such suspicions. It is known by them, for exam¬
ple, that witches have within them mangu, witchcraft substance, which
they inherit but increase in power through their cannibalistic initiation
and regular diet of human flesh. Part of the initiation of the witch¬
doctor, however (and a climax to it), is the physical transfer of the
master's mangu to the initiate his novice, through the process of cough¬
ing up the mangu like phlegm, and forcing the novice to eat it. 18 )
Afterwards the new witch-doctor must continue to feed his mangu
with strong medicines, for it is very much due to his internal power
of mangu that he effects cures, and not merely by external manipulation
of charms. Periodically the witch-doctors gather in a private place to
celebrate the feeding of their mangu; like the Zande witches who
reputedly convene in sinister covens out in the bush or near graves
to eat human flesh which they boil in cauldrons with curses and spells,
the witch-doctors too cooperate in stirring the cauldron of their “hot”
medicines, uttering charms and spells which direct the medicines to
intensify their powers. In these spells the doctors name as kinsmen
only animals, very much as the witches have animal familiars; but
Evans-Pritchard explains that these medicines are so powerful that
they demand the life of the kinsmen of the cooks: thus the doctors
name animals. But at such moments they may also name rivals or per¬
sonal enemies, who will surely be afflicted in consequence. “I dance,
a man dies,” goes their traditional initiation song, recalling to us the
obscene dance Zande witches are said to make in the dark of night
in the compounds of their victims before blighting them and their
household with death and disease. 19 )

17) Evans-Pritchard, Witchcraft, Oracles and Magic among the Azande,
op. cit., pp. 192 ff., 225.

18) Ibid., pp. 224-9.

19) Ibid., pp. 207 and 228.

On the nature of the demonic: African witchery

221

D. Religious Homologies: Nemesis and the Ancestors

Analysis of the sources of the Zande witch-power indeed leads to
the sources of the witch-doctor’s power; both have the same root
in the High God, Mbori. The medicines which both use are said to
grow under the special care of the Supreme Being, for example, and
the diviners are able to use these herbs with Mbori’s mandate to
counter the excesses of the witches. 20 ) The Mandari, a tribe to the
north of the Azande, in the Sudan, say likewise of witches that:

‘They are God’s creatures, like lions and other preying animals which harm
people, and their nature is to spend their time harming’. Although said to be
‘God’s servants in bringing death’, they are also said to be hated by God.
‘Because they harm good people, their end is planned, and after a time they
die’. 21 )

The implication is that they should only harm bad people. The de¬
structiveness given witches, though it is random in its maliciousness,
is not entirely arbitrary, for many peoples believe that witches serve
the larger purposes of Deity in singling out as victims those who gen¬
uinely erred, who through excessive pride or selfishness have elevated
themselves over their fellows, for example, or who have otherwise
violated divine norms. Widespread through West Africa is the belief
that there are certain of the most powerful witch-medicines that refuse
to harm an innocent person; if a witch attempts to misuse in this way
such a medicine, its malificent powers will recoil in full strength upon
the sender. In a recent study of the Cewa of Zambia, we read:

As to victims of sorcery, two-thirds of the 118 cases involving beliefs in
sorcery—including those of vengeance on sorcerers—were one in which
anti-social or socially inadequate behaviour was attributed either to the victim
or to someone closely associated with him... (that were) ... violations of
widely accepted Cewa norms, including those violated by the sorcerers in the
sample. 22 )

Among the Nyakyusa of Malawi one of the most powerful sanctions
for morality and harmonious participation in the social order is the
widespread fear of “the breath of men”, i.e., witchcraft. 23 ) Witches

20) Ibid., 36, 215-17, 390, 441 f.

21) Jean Buxton, “Mandari Witchcraft,” in Witchcraft and Sorcery, op. cit.,
p. 102.

22) Marwick, Sorcery in its Social Setting, op. cit., pp. 245 f.

23) Monica Wilson, Good Company: A Study of Nyakyusa Age-Villages
(Boston: Beacon Press, 1951), pp. 91-120.

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Evan M. Zuesse

pick out those who offend them personally, of course, but such offend¬
ers have very likely harmed many before occasion brought them into
contact with a witch; the very randomness of the resentment of witches
insures the “objectivity” of their hatreds: considerations of friend¬
liness, personal favor, or even family blood, will not stand in the way
of a witch's ferocious and spontaneous (even quite involuntary) ven¬
geance. Among the Shilluk of the southern Sudan, the witch is often
known as such from birth, and is avoided by others throughout his life,
but the power that is innately his is thought to come from Jwok, God,
and thus to have a certain justice in its application; these black magicians
are said to make the following tormented prayer at night before com¬
mencing their spells:

You who are God (Jwok) give me this person to kill.

Why was I created thus if it was not that I was to kill ? 24 )

In this way the witch plays a role amongst many African peoples that
in Greece is represented by the power of nemesis, whose agents were the
dread hags, the Erinyes. For the Nuer, neighbors of the Shilluk, to
break a taboo is to act to destroy the divine order in which Kwoth,
God, directly participates. The result is nueer : God blasts the one who
causes the knot in the flow of Divinity through the cosmos. Lightning
does not strike randomly, according to the Nuer and many other African
peoples, but selects particularly the houses of the prosperous who are
full of wealth, who have refused to share their bounty with others and
have otherwise violated the basic divine norms. 25 ) In the same way
the sometimes quite involuntary power of witches and of the evil eye can
fall upon those who refuse in general to share things with others,
especially with the witches or hexers themselves (but since these are
often unknown before the event, one ought to share with all).

In such matters the witches seems to perform for the general society,
between neighbor and neighbor, what the ancestors do for the family
group, between kinsman and kinsman. There are further similarities
between the ancestors and witches. The ancestors of a kinship group
generally intervene actively in the human order only when one of their

24) Rev. D. S. Oyler, “The Shilluk’s Belief in the Evil Eye—The Evil Medi¬
cine Man,” Sudan Notes and Records , II#2 April, 1919), 131.

25) E. E. Evans-Pritchard, Nuer Religion (London: Oxford University Press,
1956 ), pp. 182-95.

On the nature of the demonic: African witchery

223

descendants has transgressed a norm of family life, threatening the
collapse of its structure. Then, using spiritual powers received from
their participation in the divine order, they can cause the illness or even
death of the victim, or those close to him, unless restitution is made
to the ancestors and through them to the divine order, just as one
can release oneself from witchcraft by obtaining from the witch his
forgiveness and establishing a mutuality and reciprocity with him
(signalled by the witch blowing water on a fowl's wing, from the victim's
domestic fowl, or having him share a feast with one, or otherwise).
Joining in a communal meal with the witch is especially similar to the
communal sacrifice with the ancestors. Ancestors and witches are both
“Other" to the day-time world of mankind: they inhabit the night,
and may embody themselves in animals, often of the same species:
lions, leopards, snakes. Evil ghosts, that is„ rejected ancestral shades,
may go further and feast on corpses, cast spells on night travellors,
and haunt secret places in the bush, all just like witches.

E. Witchery as Negative Otherness

But while it is important to stress parallelism between witches and
the more benevolent religious levels of Otherness in the cosmos,
in order to demonstrate the fact that we must understand witchery in
terms of a spiritual logic, and not merely as sociological nor as merely
magical “degenerations", it would be a clear travesty of the facts to
leave the matter there. For witches, for example, are quite evil and
repulsive, while the ancestors are benevolent; witches attempt finally to
destroy the divine order, and if their activities occasionally work for
its support it is, so to speak, in spite of the witches themselves. The
witches belong to a separate realm of the cosmic order apart from the
ancestors, or perhaps we can say that the witches belong finally quite
outside the cosmic order. The honored dead, for example, who will
become ancestors and assure for their descendents the fertility of family
fields and of the women of the clan, who will constantly work for
harmony and peace in the family, are buried in a consecrated place;
the witches are thrown into the bush, or buried without rites far off
in the wilderness, near or under a stream perhaps that shall eternally
wash their polluted bodies and souls far away, “cooling" the land. Nor
do the witches work even when alive for anyone's fertility; rather do
they continually cause universal sterility and barrenness. While the

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ancestors are so closely and intimately linked with the cultivated,
“purified” land that Earth and ancestors often seem modalities of
each other in many African cultures (in Bantu Africa especially it is
often impossible to make a valid dichotomy between nature spirits and
ancestor spirits 26 ) the witches are the enemies of the cultivated Earth,
and many witch-ordeals (tests to single out the guilty witch from a
group of suspects) involve confronting the suspects with Earth rep¬
resentatives. Widespread in West Africa, for example, is the use
of iron-smiths as witch-finders, for iron is linked with the Earth, and
the Smith has the secret of transforming the alien natural substance
into a humanized one, and getting it to work for man. Witches and
iron therefore are antipathetic; the witch will not touch iron, or iron
will burn the witch, etc. The Smith is in actuality an Earth-priest, and
often leads the ordeals. Many societies shared with the LoDagaa of
Ghana, to mention but one specific rite, the traditional practice of
forcing a suspected witch to drink a mixture of soil and water at the
Earth-shrine; a true witch’s body would so rebel against the mixture
his belly would immediately begin to swell up, finally causing death,
while the innocent suffered no harm. 27 ) The witches do not love the
cultivated Earth, but the wild and chaotic Bush, the non-human side
of Earth. Their sphere is the forest or jungle, darkness, all that is
anti-human and threatening within the general category of the Other;
they isolate in themselves this horrible aspect of the non-human Other¬
ness, and represent it among men. They form the inversion of the
divine order, and thus their mirroring of the ancestors, of the diviners,
and even more archaically, of the shamans, is by way of reversed
image and antithesis. The very similarity of the structures we have
outlined, however, points to a further important conclusion. The witches
too obtain their powers from the same sources as the benevolent
forms of the divine order do, but they turn those powers backwards
upon that order. Witches are conceived of as parasitic, gaining their
power from the very divine flow they block and reverse. One of the
most striking images of this symbolic status of witches can be found
in medieval Europe: the central rite of the witch-covens, held on distant

26) Cf. Olaf Pettersson, “The Spirits of the Wood,” in Supernatural Owners
of Nature, ed. Ake Hultkrantz (Stockholm, Uppsala: 1961).

27) Jack Goody, Death, Property and the Ancestors (Stanford and London:
Stanford University Press, 1962), p. 64.

On the nature of the demonic: African witchery

225

mountain tops in the darkest hour of the night, was the recital of the
Latin Mass—backwards. Witches relate to the inversion of holiness.
In a certain sense witches must be more pious than we are, for it is
the token of their satanic holiness that it is so intense it becomes even
unholy and anti-human, removing witches from the ranks of true (and
mere) humanity. Witches are so given over to their own reality, in
the popular conception, that they are “obsessed” with evil, they are
“compelled” to do evil, it is even “involuntary” with them: it is this very
piety which so de-humanizes them that they loose contact with mankind
and so can no longer be argued with, but must simply be either avoided
or killed.

The pattern of inversion and of assimilation to a structure of “neg¬
ative Otherness” mirroring in reverse image “positive Otherness” can
be shown to hold throughout African religions, and to explain many
puzzling features of witches in Africa. For example, witches belong
to the “Outside”: they are marginal, come from an alien background,
or live far off. It is as an alien that they penetrate the divine order
of good humanity. As John Middleton first systematically demonstrated
for the Lugbara of Uganda-Congo, the divine order of humanity is
established in the center of a field of social structure and traditional
patterns, beyond whose horizon all relationships and powers become
inverted:

In the centre of the field, relations and persons involved in them are ‘good’;
the further from the centre the more ‘evil’ and inverted they become. In
other words, orderly relations of authority, unchanging from the time they
were created by Divinity and the founding ancestors, are ‘good’; relations
purely of force are ‘eviF. 28 )

But witches are not merely the inversion of the divine order through
their use of force; their inversion is systematic and thorough-going.
Normal people are active in the day but sleep 'the sleep of the just’ at
night. Witches are active at night, quiescent by day. Normal people,
good people, marry exogamously, eat foods other than human flesh, kill
the enemies of their village in warfare, work to increase the crops or
improve hunting, wear clothes, walk on their two feet, and so on and
on. Witches, however, commit incest, eat human flesh, kill their own

28) John Middleton, “Witchcraft and Sorcery in Lugbara,” in Witchcraft and
Sorcery, op. cit ., p. 272; also see idem , “Some Social Aspects of Lugbara Myth,”
Africa , XXIV (1954).

Numen XVIII

226

Evan M. Zuesse

kin and their own neighbors (and may band together in a 'conspiracy'
with enemy villages' witches to feed on their own kith and kin); they
blight the crops and ruin hunting, go about at night quite naked, stand
on their heads and even walk upside down on their way to bewitch
victims, rest dangling like bats from trees, eat salt when thirsty, trans¬
form themselves into animals in order to devour their victim or to
sneak into his compound, cause nightmares, disease and death. 29 )
Ordinary people walk to their destination, but witches have every¬
where the power to overcome space and fly, either in the form of a
carrion bird or on an animal familiar like the proverbial ‘'‘night¬
mare", or on some object like a filth-collecting broom (another memory
and parody of the shaman's drum or axis mundi tent-post on which
he makes his ecstatic ascent, perhaps). Witches therefore construct an
antithetical order. We might again think of the frequent African motif
(found widely elsewhere among highly localized peoples 30 ) of the land
of the dead being patterned precisely the reverse of life here below,
but the difference is that the latent ambiquity in this reversal is in the
case of the witches made explicit: the witches are pure evil.

F. Witchery as Isolation

This reversal of the divine depends above all on one thing: the break¬
down in the divine flow through the cosmos. The fertile women must
be made barren, the fecund land blighted and the crops “magically"
stolen. At points of transformation in the divine order the witches cluster
and focus their withering hate. Initiates, while in the delicate liminal
stage of their training, are especially vulnerable to witches, who will
seek to bewitch and damn up the budding sexual generativity of the
initiate. Newly-weds are similarly especially vulnerable, and like preg¬
nant women are especially surrounded by restrictions and safe-guards
to protect them from the envious witch's curse or evil eye. The favorite
prey of the witches are a hated person's infant children and fertile

29) See above note; also E. H. Winter, “The Enemy Within: Amba Witch¬
craft,” in Witchcraft and Sorcery, op. cit ., p. 292, and other essays in this volume.

30) The term “highly localized peoples” replaces here the prejudicial use of
“primitive peoples”, “natives”, or worst, “savages”, still commonly found. “Non-
or illiterate cultures” is unsatisfactory since in point of fact certain cultures of
Africa and elsewhere have scripts or the equivalent of hieroglyphs, generally
reserved for religious and divinatory purposes just as in early Sumer, Egypt,
and China.

On the nature of the demonic: African witchery

227

wives, the open cultivated fields and the herds, for in these the victim
has continued creativity and strength, in these the hated person shares
himself with the cosmos. This sharing must be broken or twisted.

At the root of the symbolism of witchery, one can even say, is a
meditation on the significance of sharing. A very basic concept found
amongst highly localized peoples all over the world is that the universe
is built up through sharing: that through the intermingling of divine
forces, through economic exchange, through wife-giving and marriage,
through ritual sacrifice and the very act of eating, through the initiatic
transformation of a family’s child into an adult whose work and crea¬
tivity will be shared with the whole society, the entire cosmos is con¬
tinually being regenerated anew. And correspondingly, almost all the
cases of witchcraft in the literature, not only in Africa but also else¬
where, can be understood as centering on a break-down in the flow of
reciprocity; the actions and predilections of witches can be understood
also as an extension of this symbolism of aborted reciprocities. It is
jealousy that drives a man to witchcraft, the Lugbara say, and it springs
from the refusal of neighbors to share their feasts with one, or from
envy when another more seductive man draws all the eligible girls to
him, leaving one alone, or when another is prosperous and one has
nothing. 31 ) It is the person who keeps to himself, withdrawing from
the social round and refusing to “share himself with others”, who is
everywhere suspected of hidden resentments and dark tendencies. Very
many sorcery accusations spring up within the family circle when it
appears that the inheritance and power will not be equitably shared.
The barren co-wife, who willfully withholds herself from sharing her
fecundity with the household, who at the same time resents the fertility
of others, is a prime suspect as a witch. All these figures recur again
and again in the witchery symbolisms of African cultures. It is the
co-wife’s “evil eye” that kills the other women’s children, and the
youngest son’s sorcery that causes the eldest son’s inheritance to come
to ruin. 32 ) The witch is one who has been isolated and pained, but
who takes malicious umbrage at this isolation, and attempts to make

31) Middleton, “Witchcraft and Sorcery in Lugbara,” op. cit., pp. 262 ff.

32) It is not hard to see in such ideas the symbolization of guilt feelings felt
by the fertile co-wives, or the eldest son, who contrast their own success with
their fellow’s misfortune uneasily, and who with the coming of bad fortune to
themselves accuse the fellow as almost a self-exoneration and justification.

228

Evan M. Zuesse

one share that painful excommunication from the divine order that
the witch has felt. Or, as we have already seen, the witch can be a
powerful medicine-man, a rainmaker or a chief, who does not share his
power equitably with those who are dependent on him.

G. Bodily Metaphors of Witchery

In the same way the actions and rituals of the witch repeat this
symbolism of aborted transformations. The two most intimate ways
people relate to the world beyond themselves is by eating and the
sexual act. But perhaps the most characteristic signs of the full witch
symbolism are the persistent cannibalistic and incestuous motifs. The
witch does not assume full humanity through eating non-human meat,
rather he turns on his own kind, and devours human flesh. He refuses
the encounter with the true Other. The same is true of his incest. He
mates with himself. One often reads of the transmission of wichery
power through an incestuous act. The Nso of the West Cameroons are
unusual in that they clearly distinguish between witches of incest and
witches of cannibalism. The first are called ‘witches of the sun or day’,
and are innocuous enough; only the kin suffer. Any incest warrants
the appelation witchcraft. But ‘witchcraft of the night’, virim ve vitse’e,
is the completely malicious type, whose cannibalistic practioners will
stop at nothing in their lust for human flesh. 33 ) The African witch
however, is above all a spiritual cannibal. Among very many peoples
his cannibalism is not understood to be physical as such; the witch
devours the soul bit by bit, and as the meal proceeds through the days
and weeks, the victim visibly weakens and sickens, until there is no
more life left in him and he utterly dies. 34 ) The image of the vampire
is not limited to European horror tales. It is the same lust that drives
the witch to exhuming corpses; this ghoulish feast, too, is however
often a spiritual one, and the grave may appear entirely undisturbed by

33) Phyllis M. Kaberry, “Witchcraft of the Sun,” in Man in Africa , ed. Kaberry
and Mary Douglas (London, N.Y.: Tavistock Publications, 1969), pp. 175-95; the
danger to the kinspeople from the incest of a pair is very real to the Nso: “It is
like ‘witchcraft of the night’ because it is as though the culprits were eating one
another and they would, unless action were taken, not only die or go mad but in
some cases bring death to their children and other members of the compound in¬
volved. It is described not merely as bad... or dreadful..., but as revolting or
disgusting ( ko’oi, a term also applied to a corpse found in decayed state, to ex¬
crement, suicide, and leprosy.” Ibid., p. 179 (italics mine).

34) Cf. Parrinder, Witchcraft: European and African, op. cit., pp. 147 ff.

On the nature of the demonic: African witchery

229

the light of day. Often only the medicine-man can “see” the macabre
activities of the witches.

The preference of the witch for animal bestiality and other forms
of sexual perversity is also proverbial through Africa. For the witch
belongs in essence to the animal world; such acts are like incest for him.
Even in his eating habits is the witch animalistic or bestial, for he sides
with the animals in making man his prey. Thus in the most bodily
kinds of metaphors the witch announces his rejection and hatred of the
human pattern of social interchange and sharing. The same kind of
symbolism informs witchery spells and ritual.

Witches fasten their attention on other people’s eating and sexual
relations, and, gaining access to their victim’s inner spirit during
precisely these vulnerable moments of interchange and transformation,
seize the “life” of the person or blight it. One of the most reliable
symptoms of a society deeply concerned with witchcraft anxieties is a
multiplication of taboos around the act of eating; among the Mbugwe,
for example,

It is thought that witches cast the evil eye on a victim’s food just as it is
about to enter his mouth... The only reliable precaution against the evil eye
is to eat privately or only in the presence of absolutely trustworthy people.
The Wambugwe actually try to safeguard themselves in this manner, by
maintaining meticulous privacy in eating. Meals are always taken inside the
house, even in the hottest weather. Chrildren commonly eat first while a
parent stays outside to watch for intruders; then the parents eat while the
children stand guard. 35 )

Moreover, the great importance of exuviae (blood, sweat, urine,
vomit, hair, toe-nail parings, excrement, menstrual blood, clothing
permeated with the victim’s sweat, etc.) in the making of charms,
effigies, or potions to be used against the victim, can also be understood
in terms of such symbolism. Exuviae provide the most potent medicines
of the witch. They are the symbols and the very evidence of man’s
mortality and submission to change, his constant entry into the ongoing
transformation of things. These are the very signal of man’s involve¬
ment in time. The witch uses these same elements of transformation
against the victim, forcing them back on him and stopping up, so to
speak, the channels of ebb and flow that permit man to live in the
world. Often the witch places the victim’s exuviae back in his food,

35) Robert F. Gray, op. cit., p. 163.

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Evan M. Zuesse

or buries it under his threshold or in the thatch of his compound. The
exuviae works then to dissociate the victim entirely from this world.
The witch, it is often said in Africa, comes in the dark of night to one’s
hut area, and there he or she dances naked a wild obscene dance until
blood comes out of the anus, or vomit appears. This blood or vomit
is the medicine; many witches defecate at the door-way of their enemies,
or in their compounds — even if they bury the exuviae to hide it, the
power in it works to kill the victim. 36 )

In the same way, exuviae are generally the absolutely necessary pre¬
requisites to the shaping of an effigy, since they most securely anchor
the effigy to the victim’s soul. Spells and chants may duplicate or replace
this use of “contagious magic”, but the underlying intention is the
same. The victim is through the use of such techniques torn from his
inclusion in the divine order and isolated under the power of the witch-
sorcerer. Such concepts are dramatically embodied in the belief in the
“zombie” or soul-slave, who is subdued to the will of the hexer through
the use of an effigy in most instances. For example, the Ga of Ghana
declare that the sorcerer does much the same thing in each of the
following three methods: he can call up through spells the victim’s
susuma (soul), making it appear in a bowl of water, and there he
impales it, causing pain or death to the victim; or the sorcerer can
tie the victim’s kla (life-essence) with string, thus withdrawing the
victim from the cosmic order and causing the victim’s withering
away; or the sorcerer can draw the kla into a miniature of the victim
lying on a tiny sleeping mat through concentration, then “nurse” the
figure through its “illness”, enacting an unsuccessful cure, finally

36) For a convenient series of references demonstrating the pan-African belief
in the above techniques, see, for East and Central Africa, Witchcraft and Sorcery,
op. cit., pp. 66, 100 f165, 197, 227 fand 262, etc.; for South Africa, see the
survey, by A. Winifred Hoernle, “Magic and Medicine,” in The Bantu-Speaking
Tribes of South Africa , ed. Isaac Schapera (London: George Routledge & Sons,
1937), PP- 241 ff.; no single adequate survey of West African usages is available,
but for the purposes of this brief note it is sufficient to refer to Geoffrey Par-
rinder, West African Religion (2nd. ed.; London: Epworth Press, 1961), pp. 163 f.
For the importance of exuviae for the Ga of Ghana, whose use of effigy sorcery
is discussed in the next paragraph of our text, see the vivid description in Margaret
J. Field, Religion and Medicine of the Ga People (London: Oxford University
Press, 1937), p. 128; this work is, together with the same author’s Search for
Security (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, i960), our best West African-
centered ethnological rescription of witchery. Also see H. Debrunner, Witchcraft
in Ghana (Kumasi: 1959).

On the nature of the demonic: African witchery

231

burying it—and as this ritual is dragged out, the victim simultane¬
ously sickens, worsens, and dies. 37 ) A very similar ritual to this
latter one is enacted amongst the Central African Rotse peoples qf
Zambia. Witches there are believed to seek always to increase the
number of “familiars” they have working for them. One common way
of getting such servant souls is to steal the soul and body of a villager,
making him into a true zombie, while replacing the absent villager
with a charm that seems to all his neighbors to be the person. This
“person” sickens and dies, is buried, and finally the charm is dug
up by the sorcerer; meanwhile, the real victim is forced into utter
spiritual slavery. 38 ) In such rituals, the effigy and the victim are
interchangeable. The entire significance of such practices is to isolate
the victim from his normal participation in the cosmos, and so to
reduce and master him.

H. Witchery and Hunting Symbolisms

We might ask, where did such practices come from? We must not
be surprised that the answer is, from the same hunting-and-gathering
milieu that we know shamanism’s home to be in. It has been well
established that at least a certain percentage of Paleolithic cave paint¬
ings were the product of a kind of belief in effigy sorcery: by de¬
picting the game, and perhaps going so far as to ritually spear it after
it had been drawn (numerous such pitted figures remain to us), the
ancient hunters achieved power over their prey. 39 ) The parallels
with modern hunting-and-gathering peoples are too numerous for us
to mention more than a few random examples. In Siberia, for example,
we find that the Tungus carved figures of the game they sought and
take these with them on hunting trips; like the Ostyaks,, Voguls and
many other Siberian tribes, they believe the effigy to carry the soul

37) Field, Religion and Medicine of the Ga People, loc. cit.

38) Cf. Barrie Reynolds, Magic, Divination and Witchcraft among the Barotse
of Northern Rhodesia (Berkeley & Los Angeles: University of California Press,
1963), pp. 33-4; also see the more detailed accounts in Frank H. Melland, In
Witch-Bound Africa (London: Seeley, Service & Co., 1923), pp. 214-17.

39) See the extensive recent discussion by J. Maringer, The Gods of Prehistoric
Man (N.Y.: Alfred A. Knopf, i960), pp. 110-52; a critical review of modern
evaluations of such cave art is given in Peter J. Ucko and Andree Rosenfeld,
Paleolithic Cave Art (World University Library; N.Y.: McGraw-Hill, 1967),
pp. 123-37, e t passim. Also see K. J. Narr, “Interpretation altsteinzeitlicher Kunst-
werke durch volkerkundliche Parallelen,” Anthropos, L (1955), 513-45.

232

Evan M. Zuesse

of the quarry and place it under the hunter’s power. Rituals in¬
volving the effigy are not uncommon. 40 ) Rock paintings remarkably
similar to Paleolithic art and perhaps genetically related to such
southern European art has been found in a wide arc through Africa
from the once-green Sahara down along East Africa to the desert hills of
the Kalahari, where ritual painting was still practiced by the Bushmen
within living memory. 41 ) Clear-cut effigy hunting ritual has been
reported of the Pygmies of the Congo, and indeed practices that in
other cultures are clearly “witchery” are again and again repeated in
a fully religious context by the Congo Mbuti, often as part of rituals
linking mankind and the Supreme Being ruling the forest and all the
game. 42 )

I. Witchery and the Female Image

It is important to stress again the religious structure that we find
at the roots of witchery beliefs. The forms that we find in outright
witchcraft symbolism are still, therefore, a meditation on fundamental
questions of human existence, even if here as in other ways an
inversion of the normal. It is well to remember this also in connection
with the persistent linkage of witchery to women. Again, we can do little
more here than throw an undoubtedly too rapid light over a vast field
of evidence. It has long been noted as a curiosity that among hunting-

40) Ivar Lissner, Man, God and Magic (N.Y.: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1961), p.
245; also see detailed accounts in Eveline Lot-Falck, Les Rites de Chasse chez les
peuples Siberiens (Paris: Gallimard, 1953).

41) The subject has been well-documented. See Sonia Cole, The Prehistory
of East Africa (N.Y.: New American Library, 1963), pp. 220-44 and the bibli¬
ography ; for a recent discussion, see J. Desmond Clark, The Prehistory of Africa
(N.Y.: Praeger, 1970), pp. 182-84. The remarks of H. Baumann are perhaps
historically too sweeping a unification of the Bushmen with the European Paleo¬
lithic, but much is still obscure: see Baumann, Les Peuples et les Civilisations de
VAfrique (Paris: Payot, 1970), p. 104.

42) Leo Frobenius’ report of elaborate effigy hunting ritual is, however, still
unique: Das Unbekannte Afrika (Munich: Oskar Beck, 1923), pp. 34-5. But
obviously similar, and here emphatically religious, practices are related by Colin
Turnbull, Wayward Servants (Garden City, N.Y.: Natural History Press, 1965),
pp. 130 f., 155; also see Paul Schebesta, Die Bambuti-Pygmden vom Ituri (Mem.
Inst. Roy. Col. Beige, Sect. Sci. Mor. et Pol., Coll.-in-4 0 ; Bruxelles: Georges van
Campenhout, 1941 & 1950), t. II, fasc. 1, p. 113, and t. II, fasc. 3, pp. 110-1. These
discussions must be viewed together with such rituals of the chief game animal,
the elephant, as are related by Noel Ballif, The Dancers of God (London: Sidg-
wick & Jackson, 1955), p. 166.

On the nature of the demonic: African witchery

233

and-gathering peoples, and indeed, among very many agricultural peo¬
ples too, hunting taboos often weigh more heavily upon the wife of

a hunter than upon the hunter himself. In the usual collections of

taboos made by ethnographers, long lists of such taboos are often
given, from widely dispersed societies from the far north to the
densest tropical jungles, always torn out of context and advanced as
evidence of “magical” thought and “savage” non-rationality. Sir James
Frazer, for example, in his always useful compilation The Golden
Bough, notes that

In Laos when an elephant hunter is starting for the chase, he warns his
wife not to cut her hair or oil her body in his absence; for if she cut her

hair the elephant would burst the toils, if she oiled herself it would slip

through them....

Elephant-hunters in East-Africa believe that, if their wives prove unfaith¬
ful in their absence, this gives the elephant power over his pursuer, who
will accordingly be killed or severely wounded.... An Aleutian hunter of
sea-otters thinks that he cannot kill a single animal if during his absence
from home his wife should be unfaithful or his sister unchaste.

Many of the indigenous tribes of Sarawak are firmly persuaded that were
the wives to commit adultery while their husbands are searching for camphor
in the jungle, the camphor obtained by the men would evaporate. 43 )

What is striking in these examples is the clear symbolic equation made
between women and the natural realm of forest and game; what
one does effects a change in the other. This is apparently especially
true in regard to women's sexuality and fecundity: the unfaithfulness
of the wife is immediately expressed in a similar “unfaithfulness” of
the animals who are truly engaged with the hunter in a liebestod. That
this equation goes deeper than a “mere” homology of woman and
game animals is seen in the last instance given involving camphor :
somehow women and the entire realm of the natural divine order
equally confront man as Other; both women and the forest are meta¬
phors for each other. Both are a spiritual reality above all, with which
man must necessarily be joined in a dialectic which involves life out of
death, food out of a “penetration”. That women and forest however
are not the same symbolic reality is shown in the clearest possible
manner by the insistence amongst such hunters of a preparatory
chastity between husband and wife before the hunt commences: such
a prohibition affirms that the relation of hunter to wife is similar to,

43) The Golden Bough, Abridged Ed., 1 vol. (N.Y.: Macmillan, i960), pp. 26-27.

2 34

Evan M. Zuesse

and therefore must not interfere with, the relation of hunter to prey.
The separation of women from animals is, after all, the guarantee
of human culture. We have not here a “pre-logical” identification of
women with the game, but, precisely by the taboos, a recognition of
the distinctions between nature and culture which establish the human
condition. Taboos deal not with a literalism but with symbolism.

At the same time, it is very significant that it is precisely the witch
who is thought to confound the symbolic and physical through her
bestiality: for the witch the animals are mates and true society, while
mankind is the prey. The witch is given over entirely to the Otherness of
life; she belongs to the wild and hates society. It is also no doubt for
this reason at least partly that witches are so often conceptualized as
female. We have seen that the forest and the feminine are closely
associated in the thought of the hunting peoples who first develop
the structures later cultures relate to witchery. But just as, for so
many agricultural peoples, the forest and the wild beyond the cultivated
fields are revalorized as demonic and populated with dark, evil beings,
from which not food but only death comes, 44 ) so too the link between
women and the wild is in the witch figure wholly dark and negatively
complements the positive meaning of the feminity of the food-producing
cultivated Earth. Hunting-and-gathering peoples seldom develop the
witchery concepts that so often pervade agricultural societies, it would
seem; the splitting of the religious Other into a clearly demonic and
clearly benevolent realm is perhaps part of a general increased com¬
plexity of cultural forms amongst farming peoples. 45 ) Women possess

44) The difference in cultural valuations of the forest conies out strikingly in
Turnbull’s description of the views of the village patrons of the Mbuti Pygmies,
and those of the Mbuti themselves: see, for example, Turnbull, “The Mbuti Pyg¬
mies of the Congo,” in Peoples of Africa, edited by James L. Gibbs, Jr. (N.Y.:
Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1965), pp. 288 f.

45) Turnbull stresses that the Mbuti do not practice outright sorcery or
witchcraft themselves; cf. ibid., p. 304, or idem, Wayward Servants, p. 297; H.
Trilles, UAme du Pygmee d } Afrique (Paris: 1945), writes: “II importe de noter
que les Pygmees de race pure ne connaissent pas les sorciers” (p. 128). Yet the
data amassed by Paul Schebesta (see specific references in the earlier citation from
Schebesta) show at least some such practices among the Mbuti, which are according
to Turnbull village Bantu influences. Lorna Marshall, the major authority on the
!Kung Bushmen, writes that their medicine men are not sorcerers nor witches,
but solely devote themselves to curing and work together without rivalry: “The
!Kung are not a witch-ridden people”: “The !Kung Bushmen of the Kalahari
Desert,” in Peoples of Africa, op cit., p. 271. Yet H. Baumann insists in his earlier

On the nature of the demonic: African witchery

235

a natural creative power denied to men, a power of fecundity absolutely
necessary for the continuance of the culture; their lifegiving powers
are also clear in their close association with the domestic fire and the
cooking of food. But this natural generative power so essential for
sustaining the divine order is in some ways uncontrollable, despite
the masculine attempt to guide it ritually, and so it may break out of
cultural boundaries and even act to destroy the divine order. As Levi-
Strauss has shown, culture has built itself up out of a complex fabric
of wife-exchange. But if the inexplicably creative and divine power
within women refuses to cooperate, the entire pattern of sharing and
social transformations is destroyed at the root. (Nor has this anything
to do with merely patrilineally-caused fears of the stranger women
who marry into the clan from “outside”: some of our most striking
descriptions of female witches come from matrilineal societies. 46 )
The women, apparently passive and dominated (in most matrilineal
societies, too), are felt to be for that very reason dangerous, for it is
their formidable and largely involuntary powers which culture har¬
nesses for its own perpetuation, which can so easily turn against all
culture and humanity. Added to that is the weaker position of women,
for that in itself draws in its train condemnations of witchery. Again
and again in human culture we note that the weaker are suspected of
hidden powers of resentment and hatred. The very passivity of nature
itself before man, a passivity which seems to increase with improving
technology and the development of agriculture, makes it a demonic and

cited work that both the Pygmies and the Bushmen practise sorcery to some
degree, and it is remarkable that the use of “projectile” sorcery, widespread
throughout Central and South Africa, has been traced to Bushmen hunting usages;
“magic” bows and arrows are used by the Bushmen both for love charms and
against rivals: the symbolic homologies between sexual polarities, man-animals,
and man-inimical Other, are striking. See Reynolds, op. cit., pp. 39-41, 59, 79-83,
etc., and Isaac Schapera, The Khoisan Peoples of South Africa (London: Geo.
Routledge & Sons, 1930), pp. 195-201. The archaic homology between women and
the natural animal realm for hunting peoples is brilliantly demonstrated by A.
Leroi-Gourham, Les Religions de la Prehistoire (Paleolithique ) (Paris: 1964), and
idem > Treasures of Prehistoric Art (N.Y.: Abrams, n.d. [1967]).

46) See, for example, B. Malinowski’s remarks concerning the matrilineal
Trobriand Islanders’ “flying witches”, in Argonauts of the Western Pacific (N.Y.:
E. P. Dutton, 1961), pp. 236 ff.; also see the discussion of the matrilineal Navaho
views, in the classic by Clyde Kluckhohn, Navaho Witchcraft (Boston: Beacon
Press, 1944, 1967).

236

Evan M. Zuesse

untrustworthy realm: in the bush roam foul demons and ghosts always
ready to leap upon or seize travellors or wanderers in the night.

But, in any case, it is now clear how identical are the accusations
everywhere leveled against witches that they commit incest (or sexual
bestiality) and cannibalism. Sexual and hunting perversions are modes
of each other. Both practices abort proper life-giving and -sustaining
transformations. In incest as in cannibalism, and in the sheer malice
witches are supposed to have, man turns away from the proper reciproc¬
ity with the Other which sustains the cosmic order. The relations of
man and animal, culture and nature, village and forest, day and night,,
and man and woman, are broken and turned back on themselves,
creating the various forms of witchery symbolism. Instead of marrying
the truly Other, the witch commits incest or has relations with animal
familiars. Instead of eating the not-Self, the witch has a lust for
human flesh.

III. CONCLUSION: THE NATURE OF THE DEMONIC

It is for this reason that witchery is the expression of the demonic,
not simply because of the anti-social tendency of the symbolism. The
demonic is the attempt to define man only by himself, an incestuous,
cannibalistic urge. In breaking the fundamental taboos of culture, the
witch exults in the isolation, freedom and power that this reversal of
divine norms gives him. The witch is thought to accept and desire this
inhumanity, and so is not destroyed by it; but his victims are. In this
way we can explain the efficacy of many witchery practices. As we
have seen, one common way of bewitching a victim is to slip some human
flesh or bodily exuviae into his food, or even into the area of his hut
compound. Flesh or exuviae are forced back on the victim, ‘‘stopping up”
his life, so to speak. 46a ) Thus the same way that constitutes the delight of
the witch destroys the ordinary human being whose life is woven into

46a) So powerful and deep-rooted are these and other witchcraft symbolisms,
that modern languages still vividly retain them in “obscenities”. We know without
needing or wanting it to be fully conscious that in them we are in effect uttering
witchery accusations or curses; such expressions as “Eat shit,” or “Fuck yourself,”
have the same rudimentary power and symbolism. “Up your ass” condemns the
victim to an utterly severed and inhuman life to the same degree as “Mother¬
fucker,” since in the first curse all defecation is prevented or is associated with
perverted sexuality, while in the second the victim-witch is cursed with incestuous
isolation from humanity.

On the nature of the demonic: African witchery

237

mutuality. Breaking the taboos releases a terrific force which can destroy
the ordinary person. But for him who can absorb this power, the result
is an intensification of life. Thus the divine king also inaugurated his
reign almost everywhere in Africa (and often elsewhere), with a ritual
marriage with his sister. This ritual incest immediately raised him above
the common lot of humanity, bestowing upon him a terrific blighting
power which he could also turn to good; but this power affected his
essence henceforth, and isolated him from the common run of man¬
kind. 47 )

It is a consequence from all the above that the same order of divine
power which sustains and shapes human society is also the order that
bestows power on the witches and sorcerers. Witches feed on the normal
by turning it back on itself, inverting it, and refusing to permit the
interflow of the divine order to continue. Above all the witch refuses
to allow his personal inclusion in the reciprocities of the divine order.
The Wholly Other is rejected, and the confrontation with that Otherness
is avoided by the witch’s own obsessive drive to reduce all beings to
his own finite and isolated position. To succeed in his own self de¬
finition, the witch must reduce especially those who in their successful
integration into the cosmic flow have obtained wealth, fecundity, and
prestige, and also those who are in the midst of a liminal transition to
a heightened, more divine stage of the cosmic order, such as initiates,
pregnant women, newly-weds, and so on. All these threaten the witch’s
own freedom and self-determination by their integration into an order

47) Cf. the penetrating comments by Jan Vansina, Le Royaume Kuba (Annales,
Mus. Roy. de L’Afr. Cent., S. in-8°, Sci. Hum., # 49; Tervuren: 1964), p. in.
For a review of these and other forms of African divine kingship, with bibliographic
references, see V. van Bulck, “La place du Roi Divin dans les circles culturels
d’Afrique Noire,” in The Sacral Kingship (Studies in the History of Religions,
Numen Spl. IV; Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1959), pp. 98-134. The following passage is
interesting from this perspective: (concerning the Cewa of Zambia) “Some infor¬
mants assert that a sorcerer does not achieve any power until he had sexual
intercourse with his sister. ... In preparing his ‘medicines’, the maize-sorcerer is
said to make use of activating agents ... such as the caul from his sister’s child or
his mother-in-law’s loin cloth ... Similarly, some owners of muzzle-loaders are
believed to increase the accuracy of their shooting by persuading their sisters
to sleep with their bullets in contact with their private parts. These practices are
referred to as ufiti (sorcery).” Marwick, Sorcery in Its Social Setting, op. cit.,
p. 80. The bullet gains in its ferocity of penetrative power, its phallic power, by
its participation in its owner’s symbolic incest with his sister who links him with
the wild.

238

Evan M. Zuesse

larger than and independant of the witch. They must be brought low.
One recalls the figure of the lawyer-Satan in Camus' La Chute.

The witch exults in a perverse but total freedom to break all
boundaries, to permit any impulse no matter how chaotic. But this
very need to break boundaries destroys the witch's freedom, for he
is always dependent on those norms he violates to define his isolation
anew. He is reduced, that is to say, to an obsessive perversion of
norms, a frozen refusal to enter into the mutual interaction with the
Otherness of life which the norms modulate and the divine order
represents. Those impulses in the witch that lead to fruitful relation¬
ships with the Other of life, with marriageable women, with non-human
food, etc., the witch must refuse, for these impulses make him con¬
ditioned by that Otherness, and ultimately liable to failure and death.
Again and again we are told that witches must offer up their own kin,
even their own children, in their initiations and subsequent feasts in
their covens. Witchery is a willed and desperate finitude which does not
stop at assaulting all moments in the universal transformation of
things in order to preserve itself and its intentions eternally inviolate.
This finitude is achieved through the construction of an antithetical
order and the inversion of the normal, in order to sustain the abnor¬
mality of itself. There can be permitted no true Other in such a system.
To give the matter a paradoxical twist, the witch is demonic precisely
because he is so resolutely finite, banal, self-determined, and even, as
we have seen, free. His freedom is the freedom of obsession and denial,
based on a continual hatred of the beyond quality of existence.

It is an old paradox that true freedom and spontaneity can be won
only by the submission to the commandments of the divine order which
spring out of and express the Otherness of life. Otherwise man remains
self-defined and self-determined, locked into personal and ultimately
destructively obsessive finite systems. It is that very refusal to recognize
the controlling power of Otherness which is at one and the same time
the extreme of banality and the extreme of demonic evil.

The striking thing about the symbolism of witchery that we have
just finished reviewing, is that these structures have without question
not sprung from any organized religious movement, and so have not
their source in any kind of preliminary historical facts: this complicated
and profound structure has evolved spontaneously out of the very
structures of consciousness itself, as a kind of fantasy and meditation

On the nature of the demonic: African witchery

239

on the limits of finitude and on the nature of the relationship between
self and Other. This “fantasy on evil” is deeply ingrained into the
human awareness as is shown not only by its structural indebtedness
to the earliest forms of hunting religion and symbolism, not only by
its appeal to rudimentary libidinal experiences, but also by the amazing
similarities in witchery symbolism in all stages of later history and
in the most varied cultures. The evidence we have concerning confessed
witches (that is, accused witches who are brought to “confess” their
crimes, often sincerely 48 )), is that far from being convinced adherents
of any cult, whether in medieval Europe or elsewhere, these unfortu¬
nates are as much victims of a universal psychosis as are their accusers
who project their own spiritual rejection of the human condition onto
them. The witches are scapegoats for our universal guilt.

48) For some remarkable confessions along this line, see the works cited in an
earlier note by Margaret J. Fields. A study of medieval witch trials will also dis¬
close a number of such documents, many extracted under extreme torture. Yet as
Fields’ work shows, some accused witches could genuinely come to believe in their
own guilt. My remarks above also indicate my rejection of the thesis of Margaret
Murray, The Witch Cult in Western Europe (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1921),
and other works by the same author, that European witch-cults actually existed
continuing genuinely positive pre-Christian pagan cults in a Christian environment.
Those pre-Christian pagans also believed in witches who did much the same nega¬
tive things as medieval witches. It is there that the continuity must be sought, if
anywhere. See Parrinder’s comments, Witchcraft, op. citpassim.

IN MEMORIAM

Just after having received the second proofs of this fascicule of
Numen, I was alarmed by the dreadful news of the sudden death of
Professor. S. G. F. Brandon, the newly elected secretary general of
the IAHR. He had been on a study tour in Egypt in order to collect
material for his iconographic studies. There he contracted an infection
which led to his death on board the plane bringing him home.

This surely is a tragic end of a life devoted to the study of the
history of religions.

Time is too short to write an obituary which would do justice to
the merits of Professor Brandon. It is hoped that the next issue will
contain an evaluation of his work. Moreover I have only this last page
of the fascicule at my disposal.

However, in this case the last page is transformed into the most
important page. I am sure that I am expressing the feelings of his
many colleagues, friends, admirers and pupils, when I say that a
distinguished scholar, a loyal friend and a good, warm-hearted man
has to our great distress passed away.

Our sincere condolence goes out to Mrs Brandon. We feel truely
thankful for the splendid contribution which Professor Brandon has
bestowed on the branch of learning to which this journal is dedicated.

C. J. Bleeker

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